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Date: Mon, 2 Jan 2023 15:12:43 -0500 From: Jeff Hamby <jeffhamby1025@gmail.com> Subject: The Cockpig Chapter 8 This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Copyright 2023 by Jeff Hamby. All rights reserved. Warning: This story contains graphic sexual acts between adult males. If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any resemblance to real persons, places, businesses or acts is unintentional and coincidental. This story is fiction. If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to keep Nifty in business! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html The Cockpig Chapter 8 I've said it before, I'll say it again: transforming a faggot is a long, slow process. A psychological process, more than a physical one. Yeah, fucking and beatings are all well and good, but they are more of a means to an end, not the end itself. The end, the goal, of course, is to get the faggot to a point mentally where it can fully accept its purpose and role in life: as an object to serve real men. Everything I do when training a fag is in service of that goal, and designed to help reshape the faggot mentally and physically to be the best cum dump it can possibly be. Anything less is a disservice to the faggot, not to mention to the many alpha males that will use it over the years. Some people are shocked by my training methods. They call me cruel and sadistic. Well, to a point, they are right, I suppose. I am sadistic; I love to see a faggot's face twisting with pain, knowing it is suffering simply because I want it to suffer. Cruel? Sure, if I were doing the things I do to another person, it would absolutely be cruel. But faggots aren't people. Don't let the way they look fool you. They are a different species altogether. If you treat a person with cruelty, if you heap pain and abuse on them, they either fight back or crumple into a heap. But faggots? When you are cruel to a faggot, it blossoms. That cruelty and abuse triggers something deep in the fag's psyche which causes it to open up like a flower, allowing its inner cockpig to finally come forth. The crueler you are, the better the faggot will respond and the more obedient it will become. Eventually, of course, the faggot will realize it is addicted to the cruelty and suffering, that it needs that kind of treatment just to feel complete. Also, this: it isn't all about pain. As I said, pain can be a great training tool, and with some faggots, pain is your main tool, the key to unlocking that inner cockpig. But not always, and certainly not with my little ginger bitch. You have to really dig into the faggot's brain and find what it is most afraid of -- its deep, primal fear -- and then relentlessly exploit that fear until the dumb cunt learns to embrace it, learns to obey regardless of the fear or the pain. Once you do that, the bitch is yours to do with as you please. So, I'd made it a point early on in our chats, long before we actually met, to find out the faggot's fears so I could understand how best to manipulate that fear in order to properly control the cockpig. It wasn't hard to discover, either. This faggot wore its shame almost like a shirt. Hell, most of them do. My little ginger cunt was deep in the closet, and deathly afraid of other people discovering that it was a cock-worshiping faggot. Once I determined that, I was able to easily exploit that fear at every opportunity. Exposure. That was the ginger bitch's nightmare. So, of course, I made that a regular theme of its training. I'd been exposing it more and more ever since the first time we met, when I made it strip in the parking lot of the grocery store before I allowed it to get in my car. Then, I made it piss and shit outside in the yard, like an animal. Sure, my privacy fence meant it was unlikely to be seen by anyone else, but that doesn't really register in the pig's brain the first time you lead it outside on a leash, totally naked in the bright sunlight, and make it squat in the grass to do its business like a dog. The first time I did that, I thought the bitch was going to have a mental meltdown, that's how overpowering the shame and humiliation were for it. It was no different the tenth time I did it, either. The pig still blushed deep crimson from head to toe as I held the end of its leash and watched it use the bathroom on the grass like the good animal it was becoming. Imagine, for a moment, only being allowed to piss and shit with permission, and then only outside, in view of anyone looking, while a real man, fully clothed and supervising your most private bodily functions, holds a leash attached to a collar around your neck. Imagine how that would make you feel and you have a good idea of what it was doing to the cockpig's head. Now, imagine this happening twice a day, every day, along with the knowledge that this was what your life was going to be like forever. That's where the pig was at mentally. The little party with my buddies went a long way toward breaking down some of the barriers in the pig's mind. That was the entire purpose of the party, to ramp up the exposure by showing it off to new people, alpha males who were strangers to it, in a situation where it had no input in choosing who it would be shown to or who would use it. Now it was time for the next step in its training: full exposure to the world. No turning back. Ever. After the party, I let the faggot rest for the remainder of the evening. After all, having four horny alpha males abuse it for hours had taken its toll. It curled up in its cage, still reeking of our piss and cum, its hole still stretched from its performance with the horse dildo, not to mention being rough fucked by all of us. Late that night, before I went to bed, I checked on it, only to find it curled up like a puppy in its cage, deep asleep despite the pain. The welts on its body left by the belt and cane were still fiery red, its tits swollen and raw, with a trickle of cum dribbling out of its well-used ass while more cum was drying on its face. This is the point where experience in training fags really comes into play. A less experienced owner would continue pushing the pussyboy the next day, with little downtime to recover from the previous hard use. Yeah, there is a lot to be said for reinforcing training while the fag is weak and unstable, but I disagree with that approach. I prefer to let my property recover and heal. That makes its daily treatment, as harsh as it is, seem mild or even pleasant compared to the extremes of its use. I wanted it calmed down. I wanted it to recuperate. Both to increase its stamina, and to give me the pleasure of wrecking its mind all over again. ****** Today would be a big day for my cockpig. One it would remember for the rest of its life. I woke it up early as usual, allowing it to crawl slowly out of its cage to kiss my feet. I gave it a friendly little kick in the ass to get it moving, and admired the view as it crawled off to the kitchen to make my breakfast. After I was done eating, I put some leftovers and dry dog kibble in the faggot's bowl, then added my morning piss to give it some extra flavor. The cockpig turned up its nose at such a meal the first few days it lived with me; but, when it finally learned the only choice was to eat what I gave it or starve, it finally learned. By this point, it was hardly fazed by it, and started lapping up the nasty concoction like it was the most delicious thing in the world. When breakfast was over, I took the cockpig outside to do its business, then used the hose to wash it off. I tied its leash to the back deck so it could drip dry in the sun. "Big day today, cockpig," I told it. "Time to do a little remodeling." I walked off, chuckling to myself at the look of abject terror on its face, leaving it there to contemplate what was in store for it. The rest of the day I kept very low key, deliberately. I knew the pig's mind was probably working overtime, trying to figure out what I had in store for it, which was exactly what I wanted. I wanted it in a state of fearful anticipation. I wanted it to be scared shitless of what was going to be done to it, yet submit voluntarily and willingly despite its fear. Later on, when all was said and done, the faggot would know, deep down inside, that it was a willing participant in everything that happened to it. That fact alone would fuck with its mind as much or more than the remodeling would, and go a very long way towards completely and permanently reshaping its identity and self-image. That evening, after I finished eating dinner while the cockpig licked my balls, it was time to go. The cockpig's little brain must have been racing with thoughts about what was going to happen. It had cried several times, and was visibly shaking when I ordered it to put its ass in the air. I chose a long but rather thin butt plug which included a dog tail. That one was a favorite of mine, since it reached deep inside the pig, but didn't significantly stretch its hole, leaving it nice and tight in case I or some other man wanted a nice, tight fuck. The tail was especially embarrassing for the cockpig, since it served not only to make it look less human and more like a beast, but also because it immediately let everyone who saw it know the faggot had a plug up its ass. I dressed the bitch in a clean white jockstrap and a pair of flip flops, then attached a leash to its collar. The perfect look for taking the pussyboy out in public! The cockpig balked a bit when we got to the car. I opened the trunk for it as usual, but instead of climbing right in, it hesitated, trembling. The pussyboy was staring into the trunk of the car like it was staring into the abyss, as if it knew that, once it climbed in, it was doing more than just climbing into the trunk of a car -- it was stepping into an unknown and unknowable future, from which there was no turning back. Sure, I could have ordered it in, or even forced it in, but I didn't. That wouldn't have accomplished anything. Instead, I just stood there, silently staring at it, waiting on it to make one of the few choices left to it. I have no idea what was going on in its pathetic little faggy brain, but eventually, with tears rolling down its cheeks, it crawled into the trunk of the car and I slammed down the lid, leaving it in darkness to imagine what was about to happen. I live out in the suburbs, so it takes about half an hour to get into the city. That's half an hour the fag had to lie there in the dark and contemplate its future, both what the immediate future held, which was surely some public exposure due to the way it was dressed; and its more long-term future, of which tonight's events would be the start. I kept the radio turned off, so I could monitor the bitch. Sure enough, I heard it crying off and on, as it gradually began to accept its future, one completely devoid of any control, any choices, and any privacy. I was taking the faggot to meet my buddy, T.J. He's a good guy, T.J., but I have to admit: he's an angry man. He's had a hard life -- shitty parents, a number of failed relationships and careers, and a lot of bad luck along the way. He'd finally found a couple of things he was very good at, though. One was being a soldier. T.J. was active duty for a while, saw some combat, and remained in the active reserves. The other thing was tattooing and piercing. The man had an artistic flair and a great eye for color and design. He finally decided to open up his own place in Atlanta. He got a great deal on an old camera store that had been vacant for a number of years. By the time he signed the lease, he still hadn't bothered to look too closely at his neighbors, which meant it was about a week after he opened his new shop that he finally realized it was located next to one of the most notorious leather bars in the Southeast, which is how we finally met. T.J. is straight, or at least, mostly straight. He fucks lots of women, so you can figure it out for yourself. It wasn't long after he opened the shop that he began to attract a lot of the gays from next door, so many that he finally talked the bar owner into allowing him to open a connecting passage between the buildings. To supplement his business, T.J. expanded the shop to include leather and BDSM accessories. You remember I told you T.J. was an angry guy? Well, it didn't take him long to realize that all those submissive faggots stopping in to browse were perfect targets for some of his anger. Many of them even craved it and the abuse he provided, mostly in private, but sometimes in a more public setting. T.J. had no real liking for faggots, but, once he learned what they could be good for, he occasionally took advantage of the parade of pussyboys passing through his shop. And trust me, it was a parade at times. T.J. is average height -- about 5'7, just a little taller than my cockpig. He's muscular, but not overly so; he's done a lot of manual labor over the years. Just like my cockpig, he was a ginger, with bright red hair which he keeps military-short and even a freckle or two. Unlike the cockpig, though, T.J. has a massive cock, about nine inches long, cut, and quite thick, nestled in a bush of wiry red pubes. It was a real man's cock, and from what I'd seen over the few years we'd been friends, T.J. knew exactly how to use it, too. There was another reason, though, I decided to involve T.J. in my "remodeling", one which wouldn't become clear to the faggot until we arrived. It was around eight o'clock when I arrived at T.J.'s shop. He has a very small parking lot in the rear, but I avoided it. Instead, I found a spot on the street nearby, about two blocks away. It was just getting dark when I parked, with enough twilight left to make it easy to see. I parked, then sat there for a moment or two, letting the faggot in the trunk really sweat. It had to know whatever was about to happen would start any second. I wanted that suspense to build as much as possible. After a few minutes, I popped the trunk and got out, then ordered the fuckhole out of the trunk. Ever climbed in or out of a car trunk? It's awkward and tricky to do, even more so if your ass has a large plug in it with a tail sticking a foot out of your hole, a chastity cage and collar locked on your body, and nothing to protect you from the night except a jockstrap and some flipflops. The cockpig was trembling as it climbed out, occasionally closing its eyes to try and keep from crying out of sheer, intense humiliation. It wasn't a quiet street I'd parked on; we were on a residential side street directly off one of the main thoroughfares in Atlanta, so there were plenty of cars passing by, along with the occasional pedestrian and plenty of homeless folks scattered around the area. The fact that a lot of the passers-by were themselves gay and probably knew exactly what was going on, may or may not have occurred to the pig. If it did, it probably made the entire situation even worse, since now it was being looked down on and judged not just by regular suburban straight folks, but also by other gays, some of whom just stared in shock, while others openly sneered, laughed, or pointed at the faggot as I paraded it down the street with one end of its leash clipped to my belt, the way you'd lead any dog on a walk. At one point, when we approached an intersection with a "Don't Walk" sign, I stopped directly under a streetlight when had just come on to wait for the signal to change. I glanced at the cockpig behind me. It was blushing beet-red from at being paraded out in public like this, its shame on full display for the world to see. It was using its hands to try and cover its caged drain the best it could, all the while keeping its head bowed so it didn't have to make eye contact with anyone. I grabbed the handle of hair I'd left on its head, (what I called its fuck handle) and pulled its head up, then slapped it, hard, across the face, hard enough to leave a red handprint on its cheek. "Get those hands behind your back, asslicker," I ordered sternly. The little bitch quickly clasped its hands together behind it, revealing to the world its caged drain, barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of the jockstrap. The outline of the padlock and cage were clearly visible through the cotton material, and I could tell that, despite the agony of shame the cockpig was experiencing, the thing it hated the most was the fact that its caged nub was as rigid as the plastic prison would allow. From my perspective, the short walk to T.J.'s shop was uneventful; for the cockpig, it was a nightmare, especially the stares from passing motorists, some of whom decided to honk at the faggot in its slutty outfit. A few pedestrians stopped to stare, some even to laugh, while a few took out their phones to record the scene. One homeless guy began following the faggot and catcalling it, drawing even more attention to it. I'm sure my piggie wanted to melt into the sidewalk, but the dog leash attached to its collar forced it relentlessly forward, on toward whatever hellish experience I had planned for it. The small bell attached to the front door jangled to announce our arrival. The shop wasn't too busy this early, mostly because the bar next door wasn't busy yet; a lot of T.J.'s clientele were folks wandering over from the bar to get some ink or a new piercing, or just to browse the leather and toy collection. As always, it seemed a few were there mostly to browse T.J. -- they flirted with him relentlessly. A few, lucky or unlucky, depending on your viewpoint, flirted successfully now and then, only to experience first-hand what an angry alpha soldier with a big cock can do to a willing faggot. "Hey, man!" T.J. called out as soon as I walked in. "This the new piece of ass you were telling me about?" he asked, nodding toward the faggot. "Yeah, this is it," I said. "Time for some remodeling. I thought you'd enjoy the job." He laughed, then said, "Bring the cunt over here, then, and tell me what you want done to it. I'm sure I can oblige." I marched the cockpig over to T.J., who grabbed it by the hair and pulled its face up to look directly into his eyes, while he took the time to look it over head to toe. At one point, he stuck his finger into the faggot's mouth and pried it open. Of course, the bitch was trained enough that it immediately tried sucking his finger, but T.J. forced its mouth open further and began examining its teeth the way you would with a horse or some other piece of livestock. He also ran his thumb over the red handprint on the side of the faggot's face. "Looks like someone needed some additional correction," he smirked. "What can I say?" I replied. "It's at least learned that anything short of perfect obedience will be painful. Gotta keep the faggot in line." T.J. nodded, then slapped the pussyboy hard across his other cheek, leaving an almost-matching handprint on the other side of its face. Satisfied, he released the faggot and began walking around it. I snapped its leash. "Strip and present, bitch!" I ordered. The faggot immediately kicked off the flipflops and pulled off its jockstrap, then interlocked its hands behind its head and spread its legs, leaving its entire body open for any type of inspection T.J. wanted to do. It blushed again, being shown off and inspected like by a total stranger, in front of other strangers. Oh yeah, everyone in the shop had stopped what they were doing to stare at the cockpig and its predicament. Some were clearly wishing they were me or T.J., with an obedient slave at our command. No doubt a few were more envious of the cockpig, wishing T.J. were inspecting them the same way. T.J. was looking the bitch over good, walking around it, feeling its skin and pinching its nipples, giving the plug a nice hard tug, which elicited a grunt from the fag. He inspected it as thoroughly as a car he was thinking of buying. I could see it trying to watch T.J. everywhere he moved, partially in fear, partially in fascination. This was the moment I'd really been waiting for, the entire reason I'd chosen T.J. for this particular part of the cockpig's transformation. It wasn't just that T.J. had the technical skill I was looking for -- it was his appearance. He looked enough like the faggot he could have been an older brother to it. At thirty-two, he resembled a more mature version of my ginger fag, with one clear, obvious difference: he was a man. Almost the same height and weight, just slightly older, but still a world away from the pathetic piss-drinking creature in front of him. That's what the cockpig needed to experience, this juxtaposition of the two of them, face to face: one a man, a business owner, a respected member of the community and widely desired; the other a lowly faggot paraded naked down the street for all the world to see its shame, its ass plugged and a tail wagging behind it like a dog, its balls full, and its shriveled little dicklet locked away and transformed into nothing but a drain. Here, in real life in front of the bitch, was a direct comparison between what it should be and what it actually was, between that which is respected and honored, and that which is reviled, used, and spit on by normal folks. The faggot was left no doubt about which of those it was. Even if the comparison didn't register in its conscious brain, it would be forever stuck in its subconscious, eating away at any ego it had left, silently confirming what it already knew -- it was different, inferior, subhuman. When T.J. finished inspecting the fuckhole, he turned to me and asked, "So, what are you thinking about this time?" "I have some definite ideas," I told him, pulling out some designs I liked. "I'm thinking about these markings in these places, all in a nice thick, bold black for maximum visibility." T.J. took the drawings and looked them over with a critical, experienced eye. "Yeah, these are easily done. Except this big one, of course. That's going to take some time. You want them all today? Any piercings?" "Oh, absolutely! We can't forget some rings! I want its septum and tits pierced for sure. Get some nice size rings in there for me. I can work on stretching the holes later. Trust me, stretching this faggot's holes is a favorite hobby of mine!" We both laughed, while the cockpig stood there, completed naked except for its collar, leash and chastity cage, still in full present position. I noticed a few new tears leaking out of its eyes when I talked about the piercings. "So, I have to ask," T.J. said, "are we doing this in the back room, or out here? Out here, I'd guess." "Fuck yeah we're doing it out here. Might as well provide some entertainment for your customers!" We laughed again, then T.J. headed to the back room. A moment later, he was back, carrying a spanking bench. It wasn't fancy -- basically a study, wooden sawhorse with a top he'd padded, then attached some shackles for the ankles and wrists. It also had several eye bolts in various places that could be used for more elaborate bondage. Most customers just used a chair or table; T.J. kept this in the back for me and other "special" customers, as well as for his own amusement, of course. T.J. grabbed the bitch's leash and directed it into position on the bench, then secured its wrists and ankles near the bottom of the bench, leaving the pussyboy immobile and helpless. He'd positioned the bench just so, in order to give his customers the perfect view of the faggot. T.J. had apparently decided to handle the tattooing first and get it out of the way. He swiftly jerked the butt plug out of the faggot's ass so the tail wouldn't get in his way, instead shoving the plug in the pig's mouth to keep it quiet while he worked. As the faggot lay there sucking its own ass slime off the butt plug, T.J. started by giving it a "tramp stamp", right at the top of its ass cheeks. He inked SERVE on the left, OBEY on the right. I had him tattoo a circle between the two to separate them, but had him leave the circle unfilled. I had special plans the contents of the circle at a later date, when it became appropriate. After those were done, T.J. repositioned the fuckhole's legs to fully expose its asshole. I heard some murmurs of desire and appreciation from the folks watching as soon as the cockpig's asshole was fully exposed for all to see. One look at that well-trained little rosebud was enough to give half the crowd erections. The next tattoo was more involved. I wanted one to frame the faggot's hole, sort of a tribal-type design that covered the inner part of its ass cheeks and taint, pointing towards and accentuating its asshole, just like a target. It wasn't a complicated tattoo -- the purpose wasn't to decorate as much as focus attention right on the bitch's tight little hole. It was a long process putting it on, so I strolled next door for a drink and some conversation while T.J. worked. By the time I came back, T.J. had created a work of art. Anyone who saw the faggot bent over would immediately see the tattoo, immediately be drawn to the center of it like it was a bullseye, which was exactly what I intended. And who can resist the idea of hitting a bullseye? Regardless of whether they were hitting the hole with a cock, a dildo, a whip or a fist, the cockpig's hole was now an instant center of attention and lust-inspiring conversation piece for any man who saw it. Even better: T.J. had managed to ink the pig in such a way that, when it stood up, the tat was invisible. The only thing you could see was that perfect, pale ass, just waiting to be abused. T.J. untied the cockpig from the sawhorse and ordered it to sit up so he could tattoo the front. He placed the faggot back in a standing "present" position, which not only made it easier for him to work, but allowed the crowd which had gathered an entirely new view of the bitch. The crowd wasn't even pretending to browse anymore; they were gathered around in a loose circle, watching T.J. as he tattooed what was basically his younger doppelganger. First up -- some labels to ensure that anyone that met the faggot knew exactly what it was and what it was good for. I had T.J. ink the word SLAVE in the same bold, black block lettering right on the faggot's beltline, right above its drain. He positioned it so that part of it would be visible (and readable) any time the cunt was shirtless. Can't have a slave hiding its status, now can we? The last tattoo was the most involved. T.J. sat the pig in a chair, then got one of the members of the crowd to stand behind the faggot and hold its fuck handle to keep its head pulled back. I'd decided on a collar tattoo, right where the neck met the chest. On the front of the faggot would be its name: COCKPIG, plain and bold for the world to read; around the back, PLEASE USE ME, not just an instruction, but a plea from the faggot to the world for the kind of treatment it craved. When T.J. was done, it would sit just below the collar of a shirt...an item of clothing the faggot would almost never be allowed to wear. The end result was a permanent collar the cockpig would never be able to fully hide or fully remove -- it was marked for life with what it was, and what it needed so desperately. I went for another drink while T.J. worked on the collar. Ran into a few friends of mine in the bar, friends that hadn't seen the cockpig yet. I invited them back to the shop, and we arrived just as T.J. was finishing up with the tattooing. I stood back and surveyed his work. In just a couple of hours, my little ginger fag had been nicely transformed from an obedient bitch into what a true slave should look like. No one would ever mistake it for a man again, that was for sure! In fact, any man that saw it would immediately know he could use it any way he wanted, no permission required. "Damn man, that looks great!" I told T. J. "Now for some rings. Definitely the septum and tits, and I think a guiche as well. Oh, and I'd like a few studs in its tongue as well. Might as well improve its cock sucking while we are at it," I chuckled. "None of that's a problem, but more than one stud in its tongue will affect its speech, of course," T.J. warned me. "So? No one cares what a urinal has to say anyway, now do they?" This drew a laugh both from T.J. and a number of the folks watching, while also causing the faggot to experience another of those full-body blushes. As if its shame wasn't enough already, now everyone in the room knew it drank piss as well. "Oh yeah?" T.J. grinned. "Cause I've got to piss like a racehorse!" He started undoing his fly while I snapped my fingers and pointed to the ground. The bitch immediately knelt, and I pulled the butt plug out of its mouth just as T.J. was hauling out his big piece of meat. It was impressive, that's for sure: cut, long, thick as a Red Bull can, surrounded by bright red pubic hair. No one had to tell the faggot what to do -- as soon as it saw T.J.'s big cock, its mouth was wide open and its tongue hanging out. Just the sight of a man's cock was enough to turn the faggot into a drooling, desperate suck hole. T.J. used its fuck handle to position the fag's mouth right where he wanted it, then let out a long, relaxed sign as his dark yellow piss began to flow into the cockpig's throat. As he pissed, I heard audible sounds of both arousal and disbelief from guys in the crowd: arousal at the scene of a stud like T.J. draining his dick into the faggot, and disbelief that the pig could swallow fast enough to keep up with the flow. As soon as his bladder was empty, T.J. slowly pulled his cock out and slapped it against the side of the fag's face several times, knocking the last drops of piss off before he tucked it back in his pants. I slapped the cockpig on the side of its head, "Well, bitch? What do you say to the man?" It promptly bent over and began kissing and licking T.J.'s boots, "Thank You for Your piss, Sir," it said. "Let's get busy on those piercings," T.J. said to me. "Up, bitch!" Once the faggot was standing, T.J. reached behind the counter and grabbed a pair of handcuffs he keeps handy (for just such a situation, apparently) which he slapped on the pussyboy's wrists. I could see the faggot was trembling, the idea of having its body pierced obviously scared the shit out of it, but, of course, no one really cared. After all, this was what it was for, in the realest sense of the word -- being used and controlled by its betters. In short order, T.J. had pierced both of the faggot's tits, each piercing causing an agonized squeal from the faggot, just like it was a real pig! Those were tough for it, since the faggot's tits are connected directly to its drain. As scared as it was of the needle in T.J.'s hand, its imprisoned little drain was throbbing so hard I thought it would break through the cage. Next, I had him install three midline studs in the cockpig's tongue. Yeah, it would make it tougher for the faggot to talk and eat, but that was a small price to pay to make its blowjobs even more pleasurable for the men who used it, especially me. Then, the most painful of the piercings: a nice big ring through the septum of the fag's nose, the same way you'd ring an ox or some other form of livestock. Once that was done, the guiche in between its legs seem to barely register when T.J. shoved the needle through its delicate perineum. The rings weren't just for decoration -- they had practical uses, too. The most important one was this: as long as they were in place, the faggot would feel that metal in its body, as a part of its body, acting as a constant reminder of me and my power. I put that mental in the fag; each ring and stud was like an extension of my will and my ownership, to remind the cockpig of what it was and who owned it. T.J. had strapped the fag back down on the sawhorse to install the guiche. Once he was done, he stepped back to admire his work on the tats and piercings. I could see that the design he'd done around the bitch's hole was having the desired effect. T.J. was sporting a nice, big hardon in his pants, which he started rubbing through his jeans while looking at the pig lying there so helpless. I wanted to give him a go at the pussyboy, but we both knew he should have taken care of that before he did all the work. Now that he'd been freshly pierced and tattooed, the faggot would need some time to heal before being used again, even by me. I reassured T.J. he'd get his shot. I had something special planned for the near future. ****** Slaves don't get time off, but even a cockpig needs time to heal, especially after all the modifications I'd had done at once. Waiting on the piercings to heal was the worst part, but I didn't want to risk infection. It's very important to maintain your property and keep it in good working order at all times, both to preserve its value and to prevent you from having to deal with a sick slave. A sick slave unable to serve is the most useless thing on the planet. I gave the pussyboy a month to recover. Of course, that doesn't mean it was "off" during that time, just that I used it more carefully and more gently in some ways, leaving its tits untortured, letting its asshole recuperate, that sort of thing. The hardest part for me was not pulling on its brand-new rings, which is something I love to do. But I assured myself there was plenty of time for that later. Two other benefits of having to wait: it gave me time to make some preparations for the cockpig's big public debut, and it lulled the stupid faggot into a false sense of security, as if the worst part was over after everything at T.J.'s shop. I could actually see it growing more confident and comfortable each day it was on "light duty". Needless to say, the faggot was in for a serious surprise. I wanted this to be a special event, a night my little ginger pig would remember forever, so I made my preparations in advance. Fortunately, Bill, the owner of the leather bar next to T.J.'s shop, is a good friend of mine. When I told him what I had in mind, he was all for it. Finally, the day came, a Saturday; the cockpig was fully healed and had become very complacent, which would simply add to the shock and awe of what was about to happen to it. Once the evening rolled around, I packed some items I'd need into a bag and stored it in the car, then set about decorating the faggot to look enticing. First, a fresh buzz to its hair, leaving the fuck handle in place and securing it with some rubber bands to make it more functional for controlling the cunt. Next, I changed out the fag's chastity cage for one with rubber teeth lining the cage. They weren't big enough to injure the faggot's drain, but enough to be a source of constant torment, regardless of whether that useless little nub was hard or soft. I'd ordered a special jockstrap for the faggot, too. It was hot pink, just right for grabbing attention, but it was also made of thin mesh material, so that it was see-through. As a result, the faggot's drain and padlocked cage were clearly visible even when wearing it. The mesh left nothing to the imagination -- if possible, it made the bitch look more exposed that if it were actually naked. Other than the jockstrap, the only thing the faggot wore was a posture collar, one which was thick enough it had no choice but to hold its head up straight. No more of this ducking its head in shame, hoping normal people wouldn't recognize it. No, I wanted its face on display just as much as its ass was. Speaking of its ass, it was immaculate: perfectly hairless without a mark on it other than the ink. I wanted my fuckhole completely unmarked at the start of the evening. I even took a set of photos, front and back, for comparison purposes later on. The evening started mildly, giving no indication to the pig of what was coming. No butt plug, no leash, just his special jockstrap and collar and a normal little ride in the trunk of my car. It made me hard thinking of the cockpig in the trunk as I drove, lying there imagining what was in store for it, not knowing if it should be thrilled, terrified, or both. Once again, I made sure to park a few blocks away from the bar and shop, so that the faggot would be on parade as we walked. When I popped the trunk and let the cunt out, it could see the leash in my hand, and obviously expected me to attach it to the ring on the front of the posture collar. You should have seen the look of deep shock and humiliation when, instead of the collar, I clipped its leash to the ring through its nose, then clipped the other end of the leash to my belt. Rather than looking like a dog, now the cockpig looked like a real piece of livestock following its owner down the sidewalk. This time, of course, I decided to take the long way to T.J.'s shop, parading my fuckhole right down the side of one of the main thoroughfares in the city; taking my time, letting the pedestrians and people driving by get a good look at my young freak on a leash, my prized subhuman beast. This is where the posture collar really starting coming into play. It was obvious the faggot desperately wanted to hide its face, to stare only at the ground and not risk any eye contact with the general public, which was currently engaged in judging the little freak. The more we walked, the more there were catcalls from passers-by, not to mention honking from cars that saw us. One car slowed down right in the lane of traffic, with three passengers all hanging out the windows, recording the pussyboy on their phones while laughing their asses off. I just made it a point to walk a little faster than the cum dump, in order to make sure that the leash attached to its nose ring had maximum visibility to anyone looking. Even more than its own nudity, it was being leashed and permanently marked that were currently the main source of the bitch's humiliation. Even though our destination was the bar next door, I went directly to T.J.'s shop, which had the added effect of scaring the hell out of my pet faggot. It obviously assumed it was there for more modifications, an idea which visibly scared it. I could see the pussyboy trembling in fear, which was fine by me. I wanted it fearful and apprehensive. It was one way to guarantee perfect obedience, no matter what I told it to do. But T.J. wasn't doing any work on the faggot that night. We stopped off to pay off part of the debt for the faggot's previous modifications. You see, part of my deal with T.J. is he gets to use my pussyboys any time he wants in exchange for his professional services. Since he'd done so much work on the bitch during the previous visit, I elected to wait until it was fully healed to pay up, and this was the perfect opportunity to do so. Let me tell you, he wasn't wasting any time, either. When I walked in with the cum dump in tow, he already had the sawhorse bench out and ready, which just served to further convince the faggot it was in for more "remodeling". I barely had time to put down my bag and unleash the cunt before T.J. was guiding it towards the bench. Some of his cronies and regulars were standing around as well, obviously ready for a show. I was proud of the fact that, even though it was trembling in terror of what changes would be made to its body this time, the cockpig made no protest, but obediently bent over the bench when ordered to do so. T.J. strapped it down the way he wanted it, with its hole clearly exposed to the world. I don't know if the crowd that had assembled to watch was more interested in the cockpig or T.J., but there was an audible murmur of appreciation from the crowd when T.J. pulled out his thick piece of meat and began feeding it to the faggot. "Been wanting to test out that triple tongue piercing since I put it in," he grinned, sliding another inch of his cock down the pussyboy's throat. "Ah yeah, those studs feel great. Man, I'm jealous as shit!" he groaned with pleasure. "That throat is yours any time you wanna use it," I assured him. I always enjoy the sight of another man putting my property through its paces, and T.J. definitely knew what he was doing. He buried the fag's nose deep in his bright red pubes, using the fuck handle on its head to hold it in place, the entire length of his cock buried down the slave's throat. I could see the faggot's face turning red as it struggled to breathe, but it knew better than to try to pull away, to try to clear the cock obstructing its throat enough to gasp some air. What does that say about its training, that it knew, if the choice was suck cock or breathe, it better choose the cock? T.J. continued to pound the bitch's mouth, sawing his rod in and out, occasionally pulling it all the way out of the fag's mouth. A long trail of mucus and saliva stretched out each time he did so, creating a constant connection between this massive cock and the obedient cock sleeve in front of him. Each time he slapped the fag in the face with his erection, a loud, wet smack echoed through the shop. The crowd was mostly silent, enjoying the show, in awe of T.J.'s utter domination of the little cunt in front of him. Every time he shoved his tool back into the fag's mouth, I could see its throat visibly stretch to accommodate the sizable tube sliding halfway to its belly. The faggot was drooling and gagging from the assault on its throat when T.J. abruptly pulled his cock out and walked behind the fag. It was panting from the face fucking it received, gasping to try and get the air back in its lungs, when T.J. moved in behind it. He grabbed some lube from where he'd set it on the counter and began rubbing it on his erection, adding it to the faggot's throat mucus. I was right about one thing: the new tattoo framing the faggot's asshole really did act like a target. Just seeing its ass cheeks spread open on that bench, that tight pink hole winking at him as the cockpig readied itself, knowing the violation that was about to happen, was almost enough to make me cum. T.J. didn't need any further incentive or instruction; he drove his big cock home in one long stroke, all the way in balls-deep with just one powerful thrust. The faggot let out a piercing scream and a grunt, the sound of a fuckpig with a really big one up its ass. T.J. wasn't wasting time being subtle, either. He was pounding the faggot's ass even harder than he'd pounded its face, going for a bullseye with every thrust, even pulling all the way out of its hole just so he could ram it in again full length over and over. The show T.J. was putting on certainly had its effect on me. There was no point in letting the faggot be lazy and only use one of its holes, so I walked in front of it, unzipped, and shoved my cock down its throat, right where it belonged. T.J. had evidently enjoyed the triple tongue piercings, and now I knew exactly why. I hadn't fucked the faggot's mouth while the piercings healed, mostly because I knew this moment was coming, and I wanted to savor it. There is nothing a fun as being balls-deep in a cockpig's throat while another really big cock is ramming it from the back. From the muffled noises it was making, you'd think our cocks were meeting up deep inside the faggot, coring it out, leaving it feeling like it was being turned inside-out with each thrust. Finally, T.J. had more than he could stand. He let out a roar like a lion and rammed his cock into the fag's hole so hard the entire bench moved. Seeing him cumming set me off as well, meaning the cockpig was suddenly flooded with cum from both ends. I stood there for a moment letting it clean the residue off my cock before I stepped aside and zipped back up, allowing T.J. to insert his dick back into its mouth for a good, thorough cleaning as well. Most of the guys who'd been watching had their cocks out by now, either jacking off or getting busy with some of the other guys. A few crowded around the faggot, hoping to get a shot at its ass or mouth. I've always believed sharing is just neighborly, and the cockpig was a bit out of practice worshiping cock, having had all that downtime to heal. It would do it good to get some practice; so, when T.J. was done, I waved to the others that they were welcome to partake. There were only about six guys total that wanted to use the pig. The others were more interested in playing with each other, apparently. The six that were more serious lined up front or back and began taking turns in one hole or the other, fucking the bitch in both ends, adding their loads to its holes, or occasionally shooting on its face or ass. By the time all the men were satisfied, the faggot was panting from exhaustion, which made me smile, since I knew the evening was just getting started. I also had a special treat for T.J. later on, to show my appreciation for all he did for me. I left the faggot tied to the bench in T.J.'s shop while I found Bill, the bar owner. The crowd was just starting to come in, and Bill helped me get everything set up the way I wanted it. Most of the items I needed I'd brought in my bag. As soon as everything was in place, I went back to the shop to fetch my fuckpig and give it a big surprise. Before anything else though, I added a few items to the cockpig's attire. The first thing was a thin leather belt with metal rings all around it -a bondage belt. I strapped it on the faggot, giving me plenty of ways to restrain it as needed. Next, a set of leather wrist cuffs and matching ankle cuffs, all padlocked in place on the cockpig. Once I'd finished outfitting the pig and again clipped the leash through its nose ring, I led the pathetic cunt through the bar, where its near-total nudity and utter degradation attracted plenty of stares and catcalls from the patrons. Blushing deep red all over, the cum-covered slut followed me into the men's room. The bathroom at the bar isn't much -- two urinals, one stall without a door, and a sink. There was a space between the two urinals, designed to allow guys to piss with at least a minimum of privacy. Now, however, there was yellow "caution" tape over both urinals, with signs reading, "Out of Order" on both of them. In between both, at eye level on the wall, was another sign: "Urinals broken -- Use Faggot" in big block letters. Directly below the sign was something the cockpig couldn't help but remember, an old friend from its nightmares -- the horse dildo. Even here, it was huge and unreal. The very head of it was eight inches around, a real gut-wrecker, and it only got thicker from there. The 15-inch shaft was a terror to look at. I'd used the suction cup on the bottom to affix it to the bathroom's tile floor, then lubed it up nice and slick. I could see tears in the cockpig's eyes when I snapped my fingers and pointed, my order as clear as if I'd spoken aloud. Sobbing from shame, the ginger cunt positioned itself over the tip of the dildo and began to slowly lower itself down on to the painful knob at the top. Despite the good stretching its ass had just received from multiple cocks, this monster was too big to go in easily -- too girthy, and far, far too long. The faggot leaned its back against the wall between the two urinals for support, then slowly slid down the dildo about nine inches before it was panting and gasping from the pain of having its delicate ass stretched so far. As soon as it was settled with as much of the horse cock as it could take, I used some clips to connect its ankle cuffs and wrist cuffs to the rings on the bondage belt. Now, the faggot was truly stuck: unable to stand up to remove the massive horn of rubber buried in its guts; unable to use its hands to support it or relieve the pressure of the rubber cock pressing inside it, the fag had no choice but to squat there, impaled, until its leg muscles finally gave out and it slid even further down the cruel rubber invader. The final touch Bill and I had added was lost on my impaled pussyboy -- a color camera with sound in the corner of the ceiling, giving a nice side view of the faggot and everything done to it. Not only would this allow me and my friends to observe the pig's suffering, but the footage would be very entertaining to my friends around the world when I decided to share it. I examined the way the fuckhole was set up, and decided it needed one additional touch. I retrieved its leash and attached it to its nose ring again. The other end of the leash I loosely tied around the handle of one of the urinals. The posture collar it was wearing forced it to keep its head up and face showing; the leash pulled its nose up, leaving its mouth hanging open for use. A perfect urinal. Bill and I left the faggot there like that, skewered and helpless, while we retired to the office in T.J.'s shop. T.J. had a laptop set up, streaming the video from the camera in the bathroom. The three of us sat and watched the drama unfold. You see, the faggot had a terrible predicament: the dildo buried inside it was huge, far too big for it to take, as small as its body was. It was using all its strength and concentration to maintain its position, to keep from sliding any further down. But, in a battle with gravity, gravity will always win, so the pussyboy was constantly having to strain to lift itself a little off the rubber horn, to get even momentary relief from the pain in its guts. That alone was taking every ounce of its concentration and effort. Unfortunately for the pathetic bitch, there were other duties that it had to attend to. It had been struggling there like a bug pinned to a card for about four or five minutes when the first bar patron came walking in, an older man in full leather, holding a bottle of beer. He took one look at the cunt on the floor, then read the sign above its head and began to grin. Before the faggot could even react, he had his cock out and was pissing in its face, really hosing it down, some going in its mouth, some dripping down its body. The desperate little cunt, inside of trying to close its mouth or turn away like a normal person would have, instead opened its mouth wider, its programming taking over at that moment, and that programming told it that a man's piss belonged inside it, was an honor for it to drink, no matter how nasty. I could see the confusion and shock on its face, as its programming and innate need to be used fought against its more rational ego. The fuckhole swallowed every drop the man allowed it to have. And thanked him after he zipped up, too. Word must have spread quickly around the bar, because, after that, there was a steady parade of men into the toilet. All of them waited their turn to piss down the pussyboy's throat. A few even decided to fuck its face and feed it a load of cum. At first, I was keeping track of how many men used it, but I quickly lost count. Bladder after bladder of man piss was emptied into the bitch's mouth, which it had no choice but to swallow. A few guys even got creative. One decided to turn around and stick his asshole in the fag's face, rubbing his sweaty crack all over its mouth and nose while the pig tried its best to lick it clean. Other one, seeing this, decided to go a bit further. He dropped his pants and turned around, placing his asshole right on the cockpig's lips, then ripped a nasty fart right into its unprotected mouth and nose. He left, laughing like a hyena, while the pig squatted there, gasping and retching. The natural result of all this use was that the pussyboy was more focused on the cocks in front of it than the rubber one up its asshole. Its attention divided, it was ever-so-gradually sliding further and further down the giant dildo, taking more of more of the animal cock up inside it, well past its second sphincter and deep into its guts. It was a deeper violation than the faggot had ever experienced, and I could see its mind going into overload from all the combined sensations, including ever-present smell of the piss and cum which covered it. Man after man made use of it. They were all kinds -- young and old, attractive and ugly, big and little. Black, white, Hispanic and Asian, they all emptied their bladders and sometimes their balls on the helpless pussyboy skewered on the horse cock. It wasn't even a person to them at that point, but rather a convenient, obedient appliance, a toilet, just like the metal and porcelain versions on both sides of it. Then, of course, there was the betting. I think it was after the fifth guy pissed down the cunt's throat that the three of us watching began making bets on how long it would be before the fag had no choice but to piss on itself. If there was anything I knew the bitch would find more degrading than its current situation, it would be losing control of its bladder, one of the few bodily functions left under its control. Of course, I'd foreseen this, which is exactly why it was "installed" the way it was. There was a drain in the floor of the bathroom, so it wasn't like the men coming in would be forced to stand in the faggot's piss; that wouldn't have been acceptable at all. I knew that with the volume of urine it was being forced to swallow, plus that fat horse cock pressing against its bladder from the inside, the fuckhole was going to lose control of itself sooner rather than later. So, a game developed, with the three of us watching and shooting the shit, laying bets on which of the guys would add just enough piss to the fag's belly to send it over the edge and make it piss on itself. T.J. won the game, selecting a young frat-type guy that was obviously very drunk. He stumbled into the restroom, took one look at the pig on the floor, and started laughing hilariously. He was still laughing when he let loose a torrent of piss into the faggot's mouth, never letting his thick, uncut cock touch the lips of the pathetic subhuman urinal at his feet. As soon as he was done and walked off, the cockpig gave out a sad little cry and let loose its own torrent of recycled piss all over the floor. By the time we got bored of watching its torment, the fag's belly was swollen from all the piss and cum the men had so graciously given it. There was actually a small crowd that followed us into the bathroom when I finally decided to remove the pig. The stupid bitch had been squatting over the dildo when we'd first installed it; by the time I came to reclaim my portable toilet, it was kneeling on the hard tile floor in a small puddle of its own piss, crying. The massive rubber cock was deep inside it, penetrating it in places never before touched, making it feel like the giant horse dick was a part of its body, a foreign invader which would never leave. It took both me and T.J. to lift the cunt off the floor and get it off the dildo. The loud pop when the head of the dildo came out of its ass amused everyone watching. Of course, its legs were too weak for it to walk, so we practically carried the faggot out into the middle of the bar, dumping it in the center of the dance floor. The music stopped and the spotlights were quickly trained on the desperate, piss-covered cockpig lying there, the center of attention. T.J. left and came back quickly with the bondage bench at my request. Bill and I had discussed it, and we felt some public entertainment was in order. I helped T.J. get the fag attached to the bench again, making sure its hole was clearly visible to the crowd which had gathered on the dance floor to see the show. Imagine the sight of my little ginger faggot, its small, compact frame pushed to the limit, with its tight little hole now stretched to the point I probably could insert my fist without any lube. It was lying there completely and totally exposed -- hell you could even see inside its ass! Any thoughts of privacy or hiding what it was were long gone. This was the ultimate display, the cockpig at its weakest, at its most helpless. And best of all, that ass tattoo, marking its hole as a perfect target, ready to be hit or penetrated. It was enough to drive a man crazy with desire, even with its hole all stretched and gaping the way it was now. The contest was simple, and took advantage of the built-in target. Each man would stand a set distance behind the faggot with a whip or a belt. Each got one chance to hit the cockpig's asshole. A direct hit on the hole won an additional attempt. Three direct hits in a row won, but you were also out of the game. Bill was kind enough to supply a long single-tail bullwhip for the game, while T.J. took off his own thick leather belt, which both he and I preferred for beatings. The excitement in the crowd was palpable as Bill, by virtue of being the bar owner, lined up for the first crack at the fag's hole. He took aim carefully, the reared back and let the bullwhip fly! It struck the pussyboy's dilated asshole right on the outer rim, causing it to squeal like the pig it was and try to levitate off the sawhorse. The crowd cheered and applauded, while Bill took a small bow and lined up for his next shot. The next lash went wide, leaving an angry red welt on the cockpig's ass cheek. Bill moved aside, and T.J. took his spot. T.J. grabbed the buckle of his belt in the palm of his hand, then wrapped it around his hand several times, until he had a small tail of the belt left, giving him maximum control. While it didn't have the reach that Bill's bullwhip did, it made up for it with accuracy. T.J. threw his arm back and then brought the belt down full-force, with the tip of the belt actually hitting the delicate tissues just inside the pig's asshole, now left exposed and vulnerable as a result of its distended sphincter. The faggot screamed at the top of its lungs, no longer able to form words, just incoherent sounds of pleading, suffering, and need. I stopped T.J. before he could take his second swing because an idea had occurred to me. I moved over to the bench and unlocked the fag's chastity cage. The tiny teeth lining the cage are a torment, but considering what the faggot had been through that night, I wasn't entirely sure it had noticed. Now, however, its little nub was uncaged for the first time in over a month, the last time being during the party at my house. At that party, the pussyboy was told he would only be allowed three more orgasms before its chastity became permanent; the first of those came at the end of the party. Now, I thought, would be an excellent time for another one. I quickly explained the situation to the assembled crowd, drawing more laughs at the cunt's predicament. I ensured that its drain, which was hard despite (or perhaps because of) all the abuse, was pulled back between its legs. With any luck, anyone who missed the fag's asshole would hit its dicklet instead. I was eager to see what resulted. T.J. moved into position and took aim once more. When the belt landed, it was another direct hit on the asshole for the ginger bitch. It squealed again, drool falling out of its mouth as it did so. It was beyond words, in a mental state where all it could do was suffer and react, suffer and react, and most of all -- obey. After taking the accolades of the crowd for his accuracy, T.J. lined up for his last shot. This time, however, I saw an evil grin on his face right before he left the belt fly. He'd let out some slack on the belt aimed slightly lower this time. When the belt fell, the tip of it hit the faggot right on the bottom of its drain, right where it is most sensitive. The wide belt managed to hit its overly-full balls, taint, and asshole as well. I've never heard anything like what happened then. The faggot made an unearthly sound from deep inside, a type of plaintive, primitive squeal, followed by a high-pitched keening as its little nub began spewing cum in long ropes all over everything. The pig's entire body was rocked by the power of the orgasm combined with the pain from the belt along with the utter humiliation of the crowd watching it. Both pleasure and pain melded into one overwhelming sensation that it would crave for the rest of its life. Now, naturally, since the faggot had its pathetic little orgasm, that was the end of the game and the end of the show, right? The only merciful thing to do, of course, was to unlock the pussyboy, clean it up, and let it rest for a good long while. Not even close. I couldn't deny all those other men there the chance to abuse my toy, so the ginger bitch lay where it was on the bench, reeking of piss and cum the way a good faggot should. The men lined up then for turns, some aiming carefully for its asshole, hoping for the chance for additional blows, while some of the others (clearly the cruelest of the crowd) aimed for its unprotected balls or drain. Like most guys, the faggot's drain became incredibly sensitive after it came, something I'd taken delight in using to torment it with in the past. Now, however, it resulted in a new level of agony each time the whip or belt make contact with the hypersensitive head. Of course, any sexual pleasure the fuckpig had been getting from the beating was gone now, which meant its suffering was multiplied. Of course, a lot of the guys in the crowd wanted to use the fag's holes, but I had other plans. I let the game go on for a while, and there were a surprising number of winners, guys who managed to get three directly blows right on the bitch's asshole. By the time I called a stop to it, the cockpig's ass was welted and red all over, crisscrossed with a hatching of thin whip marks and wider imprints from the belt. The welts extended to its inner thighs, balls, and even its pitiful drain. Now was time for my special treat for T.J., my surprise. The faggot's hole had been beaten enough it was now swollen, the outer ring puffy and tight again, the inside bruised and battered. The sphincter had swollen enough you couldn't see inside the bitch's ass anymore. I knew what it was like, because I've beaten fags' assholes before, even if this was a first for my pussyboy. With a flourish, I invited T.J. to enjoy one of the greatest fucks he would ever experience. He didn't hesitate, but moved in behind the pig and, once again, snapped his hips forward and speared the fag with one long thrust. The swollen tissues of its asshole were filled with blood, making them feel superheated around T.J.'s thick rod. Deep inside, the sore spots left by the horse dildo were already an agony, only to be made that much worse each time T.J. rammed into them with his own massive member. He let out a sigh of contentment as soon as his cock was buried up past the faggot's second sphincter. "Fuuuuuck! That's amazing!" he moaned, to the delight and encouragement of the crowd. The swelling caused by the beating made the sloppy hole tight again, a hole which was which was red-hot and pulling at T.J.s cock with each stroke. Every time he withdrew his cock, it looked like he really was turning the fag inside-out, rearranging its guts to fit his shaft. "It's so hot!" T.J. exclaimed, thrusting harder, "I don't think I'm ever gonna fuck an ass again without beating it first!" We all laughed at that, and T.J. brought his hand down on the pig's ass cheek for good measure. The pain must have been beyond belief for the faggot. Even restrained, it was all T.J. could do to stay inside it. The faggot was bucking like a bronco, trying its best to dislodge what must have feel like a searing rod of red-hot iron buried inside it. The crowd was loving it, catcalling encouragement to T.J. and filming it on their phones. Finally, with another loud roar, T.J. shot his load deep inside the pig where it belonged, his grip leaving deep fingerprint bruises on the pussyboy's ass cheeks. When T.J. finally recovered, he was nice enough to allow the faggot to clean the combined cum, lube and ass slime off his cock. I debated allowing the rest of the crowd to enjoy its holes, but I could tell the fag was spent, and decided it was time to head home. We unstrapped it and got it back on its feet, wobbly as a newborn colt, reattached its chastity cage, and clipped the leash to its nose ring. I said my goodbyes while the pussyboy obediently kissed the boots of all those who were generous enough to use it. We were headed back to the car when I felt a small tug on the leash. When I looked back, the faggot murmured in a small, scared voice, "Please, Master, I really need to pee!" Indeed, its belly was still a bit swollen from all the piss and cum it had swallowed. I'm nothing if not accommodating of the needs of others. I led the faggot up to the next streetlight, leaving it to stand there in the pool of brightness, spotlighted by the yellow sulphur glow, and gave it a single command, "Piss now." Only a short time before, such an order would have embarrassed and humiliated the faggot to the point it would have tried to melt into the ground. Now, though, it simply squatted like the good, obedient bitch it had become, and pissed like any animal would while I held its leash. Its transformation from faggot to true subhuman cockpig was almost complete. *********************************************************************************** Thank you to all who have written to me with feedback about this story! Your interest inspires me. Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com

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Date: Thu, 2 Sep 2021 20:15:05 -0400 From: Jeff Hamby <jeffhamby1025@gmail.com> Subject: The Cockpig 7 This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Copyright 2021 by Jeff Hamby. All rights reserved. Warning: This story contains sexual acts between adult males If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relation to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction. If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to keep Nifty in business! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html The Cockpig Chapter 7 Plateaus. Every training regimen has them. It doesn't matter what the program is; if it's a progressive, goal-oriented training program, it's going to have plateaus. They can be deadly to progress. Whether it's a weight loss regimen, or strength training, or body building, there are two phases which are the most difficult – getting started, which requires both motivation and momentum; and the plateaus, when it appears no progress is being made, even with continued effort. Plateaus kill both motivation and momentum. Anyone that's accomplished significant change can tell you, you have to push through the plateaus to reach your goals. If you don't, you stall, get frustrated, then finally give up due to lack of results. Plateaus happen when training faggots, too. The important thing is to remember that any faggot can perform better with proper training. So, do not give in to your frustration at its failure to show improvement. You just have to push through the mental barriers your cum dump has encountered with firmness, while applying some new techniques to help shake things up a bit. Otherwise, you'll never get rid of those barriers, the things some people call "limits". Always remember: people, who can make choices, have limits which they themselves set; faggots, who don't get choices, just have barriers which need to be removed. Removal of these mental barriers makes the faggot far more useful, of course. After all, there are only two things which give a faggot value: its utility and its obedience. The cockpig had been living with me for about four months when it hit its first plateau. Not that it wasn't performing up to par; I wouldn't have tolerated that for a second. No, it still performed as ordered, but its performance wasn't improving. It had become a bit listless and not nearly as responsive as it was before. While it was still very obedient, that look of fear was gone from its eyes. Yes, it did everything it was told to do, but there was no extra effort to please me. It was still giving 100%, but not the 110% I'd expect from a cockpig eager to prove itself to its new owner. I decided it needed an additional push to get past this plateau, something to motive it further. So, I planned a party. Invited some guys over to watch the game and see the cockpig in action. Not a big party, of course. Just a small one, a chance to introduce a few of my friends the cockpig and give them a chance to inspect the new property. I discovered very early on that the pig was really quite shy. Being made to do anything in public which revealed what it was, anything which showed the world what it was good for, was deeply humiliating and degrading to the cockpig, so of course I made such things a high priority. Part of effectively training a subhuman slave is identifying all those psychological barriers to its service, then relentlessly tearing them down. I decided to alter the pig's appearance some, not just to show off its looks, but to reinforce the idea that I controlled everything in its life. I also wanted to make sure the pig really grasped the fact that its only purpose in life was to serve and please its betters, even if that meant changing its appearance. The first thing I did was take some clippers to its head. When I'd brought it home to live with me, one of the first acts of stripping away its old life was to shave its head right down to the skin. God, I hated seeing all that pretty ginger hair fall to the floor, but sacrifices must be made. Besides, when I was done and turned the cockpig towards the mirror, it gasped, the reflection showing it the reality of its new life. It cried a little then, but I didn't mind that. During its training, the hair had grown back, of course. This time, I buzzed its head to a nice short "high and tight", so the red really showed and it was fun to feel, especially when I made the pig rub its head against my balls. I left a longer patch, though, right near the front – its "fuck handle", I told it. Perfect for grabbing and controlling its head when you are fucking its mouth, or when its tongue is buried up your ass. When the pig saw its new hairstyle in the mirror, it whimpered a bit at the strange look. "Yeah, pig, it looks a little ridiculous, but the fuck handle is functional, and that's what matters. Just another added feature for a man's convenience," I explained. I grabbed its new handle and pulled its face into my crotch, giving it a quick demonstration of how easily it could be controlled that way. Being a ginger, the cockpig was mostly hairless anyway, but I removed what little there was under its arms and on its legs. Of course, it had been keeping its asshole and crotch shaved since before we met, except for a small decorative patch around its drain, mostly because I love the look of red pubic hair. If anything, that patch emphasized how smooth the rest of it was, and it worked to really set its chastity cage into high relief. When the day of the party arrived, I could tell the cockpig was nervous. No, not nervous – terrified. This was a big step for it, its "coming out" party, so to speak. Up to this point, the only person that had ever seen it in its newer, more natural state besides me was its former roommate and best friend, Cody, and then only for a few moments. This was the first time it would be presented to others, to strangers, as an owned object, something subhuman. I could tell the idea alone was really fucking with its brain. It had dreamed about this kind of thing for years, and now those wet dreams had come true. This was its daily life, and it was about to be displayed to total strangers as the thing it had willingly become. No - that it had begged to become. Mentally, the entire situation was almost overwhelming for the cockpig. But that's exactly what I was going for. Gotta get past that plateau. I decided to outfit the faggot with a special little treat for my guests: a pig-tail butt plug. What better way to reinforce for the cockpig that it wasn't a person, but a piece of livestock? The hot-pink curly tail sticking out from between the fag's tight little ass cheeks looked amazing. I made it crawl in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom so it could see itself completely exposed: plugged, shaven, with a pink tail. The only parts of its flesh not fully exposed for everyone to see were the parts covered by its collar and chastity cage. I made sure to put on the clear plastic cage, so my guests would be able to observe its little drain straining against the plastic. Its instructions were simple: it was only allowed to say two things: "Yes Sir" and "Thank you, Sir," unless it was addressed directly. After all, no one really cared what it thought or had to say, and there was no reason for "no" to be a part of its vocabulary, anyway. It would welcome our guests by opening the door on its knees, kissing their feet, and presenting itself for inspection. I knew this last part would be the hardest for it – letting total strangers see it as it lived: on its knees, drain locked, collared, shaved. A thing, to be inspected by any men whom I allowed to use it. Just before I left it kneeling in the foyer, I added one more decoration to it, as a treat for our guests: I hung a small brass bell from the tip of its chastity cage. I could see the confusion on the faggot's face when I put it there, but I knew it would understand the implications soon enough. You should have seen the pig. I made it wait by the door on its knees for a good while before the first guests arrived, just sitting there contemplating what was about to happen to it, and how it had no control over any of it. I don't know exactly what was going through its little faggot mind, but soon after I placed it there, its drain was hard and throbbing in the chastity cage. From time to time, some idea would enter its head and it would start blushing all over, that pale skin turning a deep red, throwing its freckles into high relief. After a while, its drain was dripping right through the cage, creating a little puddle of precum on the floor in front of it. It wasn't a problem though – I'd trained the little cunt to lick up any trace of its pig scum to keep my floors nice and clean. Every few minutes, while it waited, it would bend over and lick up the liquid evidence of its need for abuse. Once its drain was as hard at it could get in that tiny cage, filling the plastic prison and throbbing along with the fag's heartbeat, the cage started to bounce, making the tiny bell ring with each throb of its little nub. The best part was the look on its face after about the third little ring of the bell, when it finally figured out what was causing it, when it realized the bell wasn't just a decoration, it was an alarm – a faggot hard-on alarm, designed to make sure everyone nearby knew the cockpig was aroused, as well as to draw attention to its caged nub. Zack was the first guest to arrive. Ever seen the show "Archer"? The main character, Sterling Archer, the super arrogant, really smug asshole with the great body? That's Zack to a tee. He doesn't look anything like Archer, though, except that he's got a great body from all that CrossFit he does. He's 30, clean-shaven, with a great jawline. About 5'10, with blond hair and broad shoulders, Zack fills out his clothes very well – especially his jeans. He's got a bulge in his pants that you can't miss, no matter what he's wearing. He's straight, but very cruel. Most females aren't hardcore enough to handle Zack, which is how we became friends. I let him work over one of my previous slaves, just to get it out of his system, and we've been friends ever since. Zack was carrying a long, thin box under his arm when he came in. He said hello to me, momentarily ignoring the cockpig at his feet kissing his Nikes, then handed me the box. "Found this online and thought of you. Figured it would make a nice party gift. Open it later, though," he said, an evil little smile turning up the corners of his mouth. Finally, he bent down, grabbed the fuck handle on the pig's head and pulled it to its feet. I was proud to see my training was paying off: the cockpig immediately spread its legs, assuming an inspection position, its head pulled back by Zack's grip on its hair, with its hands locked behind its neck, leaving all parts of it on display and completely exposed for anything Zack decided to do with it. He reached out and grabbed the pig's tits, pinching its delicate little nips and lifting it up on its tiptoes, rolling the very tips of the faggot's nipples between his fingers, until he finally made the pig gasp and then squeal from the pain. As he held it there on its tiptoes, suspended by its tits pulled way out from its chest, he glanced down and laughed, commenting on the fact that the cockpig's drain was hard as a rock and throbbing in its cage, causing the bell to ring urgently with the faggot's need. That caused the pig to blush with shame, knowing that this total stranger was not only casually inflicting pain on it for his own amusement, but that we were both laughing at its depravity, at the fact that such abuse, rather than causing its nub to shrink from the pain, instead made it throb even harder. Zack finally let go, and we went into the living room to relax, leaving the pig to greet the other guests as they arrived. I set the box Zack brought down in the corner of the living room out of the way. Scott arrived next. He runs one of those sports bars, so it was a lucky thing for me he had the night off. No party is really complete without him. He's got a great sense of humor, as well as a viciously cruel streak when it comes to faggots. Scott's a body builder, with a massive chest and huge shoulders and arms. He's in his early 30s, and let me tell you, this dude is a beast! Unlike a lot of body builders, he's not just big, he's strong as well. I couldn't wait for him to get ahold of the cockpig and put it through its paces. I started laughing out loud at the faggot when it got a look at Scott. He's massive all over. The faggot was licking his dress shoes in greeting when I walked into the foyer. Scott lifted the pig's face with his foot, letting it get a good look at what a mountain of a man he is. I thought the cockpig was going to piss itself in fear right then. It began to tremble and whimper, obviously aware that whatever this man decided to use it for would hurt like hell, and it would be utterly helpless to stop it, even if it had the balls to try. Scott reached down and grabbed the pig's fuck handle, pulled its head into the crotch of his dress slacks, and began grinding his crotch into its face, letting the pussyboy get a face full of the pipe growing down his leg. I told you, Scott is massive all over, including in his pants. By the time Scott was done, there was an even deeper look of fear in the cockpig's eyes as it realized that this huge pole would soon be buried inside it, whether it wanted that to happen or not. As if it even deserved a choice in the matter... While Scott and I were greeting each other, he casually pulled the pig's head around to his ass and jammed its face between his muscular ass cheeks, grinding the faggot's face into his asshole, letting it get a good whiff of his musky sweat. I'm not even sure the pig could breathe. Scott was cramming its face into his ass hard, with the two mounds of his muscular cheeks pinching its nose firmly in place. As the cockpig was struggling desperately to breathe, even if to just get a whiff of air flavored by Scott's ass sweat, Josh opened the door and walked in. Josh is an old friend. I've known him since he was a teenager. Rough kid with a rough home life, he learned cruelty from his family at an early age. When I met him, he'd just turned 18, but he was already a pretty mean little shit, constantly getting in trouble with everyone: parents, school, cops. He liked to fight and fuck, and did a lot of both, apparently. I saw the way he treated some of the girls he slept with, and knew he was a kindred spirit. So, I introduced him to a faggot I was training at the time. He was reluctant at first, afraid people would think he was gay. You know how self-conscious teen boys can be. But he quickly took to using faggot slaves like a duck takes to water. Once he learned he could abuse them any way he wanted and they'd not only obey but actively beg him for more, Josh was hooked. He still preferred women, but he started regularly using and training faggots to be his slaves. Before he did something stupid and got sent to prison for a couple of years, Josh had one bitch damn near completely trained. The things he put that fuckhole through were hilarious and downright evil. But those are tales for a different day. Josh isn't that big, especially standing next to a mountain like Scott. He's only about 5'9, but he's well-built and pretty muscular, not from hours in a gym but from lots of manual labor. Josh has always worked construction and remodeling jobs, so he's got the rough hands and ropey muscles of a worker, someone who does hard labor all day long instead of sitting in an air-conditioned office in front of a computer. His time in prison certainly didn't hurt his build, since he'd had nothing to do but pump iron and abuse some of the other inmates. He keeps his brown hair cut prison-short, in a single length buzz all over. Unlike Scott, who has a full beard and looks more like a business executive than a bar manager, Josh is clean shaven and covered with tattoos, a few of them professionally done, but many a result of his time inside, hand poked in some cell. Josh is only 27, but he's packed some hard living into that time, which has only made him even meaner, it seems. I love having him around just to see how cruel he can be. Josh and Scott greeted me and high-fived each other. They'd been to my parties before. Scott, ever the gentleman, passed the cockpig's fuck handle to Josh, allowing him to take over using it. Josh looked like he'd just come from a job site. His jeans and work boots were dirty, and he had an odor of sweat that hung on him; not nasty, per se, but you could tell he'd been working. Josh got a mean little grin on his face as soon as he grabbed the faggot's hair, and immediately shoved the pig's face into his ass, rubbing its nose against his faded blue jeans. Suddenly, Josh let out a long, loud fart, right into the pig's face. My little cockpig started to struggle in an effort to pull away from the disgusting smell, but Josh just pulled on its hair tighter, laughing at it being forced to inhale his rancid gas. That's just how an alpha male like Josh greets a subhuman fuckpig. Once Josh was done feeding the cockpig his farts, Scott grabbed its hair and pulled it to its feet, then bent down and threw the faggot over one of his shoulders, carrying the cumdump like a sack of potatoes. Yeah, he could have just made it crawl behind them into the living room, but Scott liked showing off his strength, and I could tell it made the pig feel small and completely helpless in a way even bondage wouldn't have accomplished. This was a superior man demonstrating his raw power, using his muscles and size to accentuate the vast difference between what he is and what the cockpig is. He carried the fuckhole like it weighed nothing, not even breaking a sweat as he toted it into the living room and deposited it, whimpering and trembling, on the floor where it belonged. I nudged the cockpig with my foot in order to get it back on its knees where it belonged. "Gentlemen," I said to the guys, "allow me to show off my newest piece of property, my new cockpig. I suppose a quick rundown of its uses is in order before the game begins." This was an important part of the evening, as well as a crucial part of the cockpig's training. As deeply humiliating as it was for it to be seen by others as a faggot slave, I wanted to push it even further, take its degradation to a deeper level. What was more degrading than being seen and used as a cockpig? Why, having to admit it out loud in front of strangers, of course! Time to hear the faggot recite its catechism for our guests. "Who am I," I asked. "My Master," it promptly replied. "What else? Tell these men," I demanded, grabbing the faggot's chin and pulling its face up so it could see the guys staring at it. "My...my owner," it stammered, blushing. Admitting it was owned property was hard, but even harder with four sets of alpha male eyes boring into it, judging it. "Anything else, cunt?" I asked, my grip on its chin tight enough it couldn't turn away. The faggot was silent for a moment, its mouth hanging open slightly, a pleading look in its eyes. It hated this: having to explain itself to others, to explain its life and its new role to normal people, to real men. Finally, it summoned its courage and replied. "You are my god, Sir." "It's god?" Zack sneered at the faggot. "Is it saying it worships him?" The cockpig looked at me, pleading with its eyes, its bottom lip trembling from the humiliation of being exposed like this. I could tell this was painful for it, that it wanted to just disappear into the floor instead of having these men see it this way. So, of course, I pushed it further. I released my grip on the cockpig's chin long enough to give it a good, hard slap across the face. "A man asked it a question. Answer, cum dump." "Yes, sir, it worships its Master and Owner, sir." "Tell them its name," I ordered. "Sir, you haven't given it one. You said objects don't have names," it replied, breaking eye contact. I saw it swallow, hard. This was intensely stressful for the bitch. "Well, what's it good for, at least?" Josh demanded. The pig hesitated, trying its best to look at the floor. But our scrutiny wasn't going to be escaped so easily. I grabbed the hair on top of its head and pulled its head up until it was staring straight at the Josh. "Sir, it will do anything you need, Sir," the faggot replied. "Oh yeah?" Josh asked. "I think it should give us a list of what its good for. Maybe, like, a menu of its services." "Yes, sir," the faggot responded, swallowing hard. "Sir, you can fuck it if you want." "Hmmm. What if I don't just need to fuck?" Josh followed up. "Maybe I need to piss, instead. What will it do then I wonder?" The faggot turned a deep read. I walked around behind it, and repositioned its head, so it was directly facing all three of our guests and held its head there so it was impossible for it to look away. I wanted it to admit what it was, all of what it was good for, while they stared it down. And stare it down they did, their eyes boring into it, like they were looking into its very soul. I wanted it to see the disgust in their eyes, and truly comprehend the deep contempt real men felt for a faggot like it. "Sir...it...it would drink your piss if you wanted it to sir," the faggot stammered, barely above a whisper. "What was that? I couldn't hear the little bitch," Zack said I jerked on its hair. "Louder, fuckhole. Tell these men what it needs." The fag hesitated, turned a deep red all over, then finally blurted out, just as I'd taught it, a mixture of begging and yelling, "SIR, PLEASE LET IT DRINK YOUR PISS, SIR! IT NEEDS YOUR PISS IN IT, SIR!" "Just his piss, needy faggot? What about me?" Scott asked. "SIRS, PLEASE LET IT DRINK ALL OF YOUR PISS!" I noticed a few tears rolling down the faggot's cheeks as we made it beg to be a urinal for these total strangers. Its first tears of the night, but certainly they wouldn't be the last. "What is it, some kind of urinal?" Zack asked, a disgusted look on his face. The fuckpig was silent, its mouth opening and closing without sound. I gave it another painful tug on its hair. "Yes sir," the faggot finally admitted, "it is a urinal for men like you." "That's fucking disgusting, you know that, faggot? Not only allowing men to piss on you and inside you, but begging them to use you as a urinal. Even guys it just met, like us. Fucking sick faggot!" Zack said, shaking his head is mock disgust. "What limits does it have, from me or any man?" I asked the faggot from behind. It swallowed and blushed, another full body blush, as it felt another wave of shame washing over it, forced to admit such a thing in front of these strangers. "None, Master." "So, I can use it any way I please? My buddies can do anything they want, no matter how twisted, how disgusting, how painful? Is that what it's telling us, cunt?" I demanded. Another blush, deep red this time, the response almost a whisper, "Yes Master, please Master." "What if I just want to hurt it? Maybe beat it some, really fuck it up and inflict some pain? What about that, bitch?" Zack inquired. The pig started trembling, knowing that these men would not only hurt it, but would take great pleasure in seeing it suffer. As much as the little faggot needed cock and craved having me use it, it didn't like pain. Hated it, in fact. But, once again, I'd put it in a position where it had no choice but to beg for something it didn't want. "Please sirs," the faggot begged, tears freely flowing down its young face, "please hurt this pig. Please abuse it and make it suffer if you want to." Zack didn't need to be asked twice. Quick as a snake, he reached out and slapped the shit out of the cockpig, who had no opportunity to avoid the blow, since I was still holding its head in place by its fuck handle. I could tell Zack hit it hard enough to rattle the bitch's teeth. Before it could recover, Josh slapped it on the other cheek just as hard, knocking its head back in the other direction and eliciting a loud grunt from the faggot. It was panting, trying to breathe through the sudden pain. Obviously, the slaps were hard enough it couldn't do basic math, because it obviously wasn't expecting the blow which came next from Scott. The bodybuilder used one huge paw to whack it across the face hard enough to knock it to the ground despite my grip on its hair. I thought for a moment he'd knocked it out cold, but the faggot started crying and writhing in pain, so I knew it was okay. I snapped my fingers to get the cockpig's attention. "Beers for everyone. Now," I ordered. Slowly, it pulled itself together and stood up, then walked into the kitchen to fetch the drinks. "Nice looking piece of ass," Josh drawled, "but I don't see why you're letting it walk upright like that." I smiled. I can always count on Josh to start some shit. "Well, you know where the equipment is. Feel free to correct its behavior," I challenged, knowing he was more than willing to rise to the bait. Josh hopped up and headed for the back room I used for faggot training, with Zack right on his heels, ready to get into the action. I could hardly wait to see what they brought back with them. By the time they both came back downstairs, the faggot was back with the beers and dutifully licking Scott's black dress shoes to a bright gleam. Zack was holding a thin, bamboo cane, a favorite of mine due to the way it whistled through the air just before striking flesh, as well as for the deep, thin, incredibly painful welts it left when wielded correctly. That thing hurt, and I could tell from the grin on Zack's face he knew just exactly how painful it would be. Josh, however, is always more creative in his tortures. Rather than a whip or a cane, he brought back something far more insidious: a humbler. I hadn't gotten around to using it on the cockpig yet, but it was certainly about time. Josh borrowed the keys to the faggot's chastity cage from me, then unlocked and removed the device while Scott placed his other size 13 shoe on the back of the pig's head, forcing its face into the shoe it was licking and effectively pinning it in place while Josh installed the humbler. The cockpig let out a loud groan into the top of Scott's shoe when Josh slide that cage off its drain. That was the first time it had been uncaged in months, and the first time its little drain could finally unfold and erect to its full size, such as it was. The other guys all laughed to see the faggot's little drain spring to attention. They started commenting on how small it was. "Well, it didn't use to be quite so small," I explained. "I mean, it was never man-sized or anything, but that chastity cage is doing a good job of helping to shrink it. I looks a lot smaller than then I started training the faggot. I'm pretty pleased with the results so far." "What's your plan?" Josh asked. "You gonna let the faggot keep that little nub as-is, or do it like that last one you had?" "I haven't decided, really," I replied thoughtfully. "I'm sure I'll figure it out soon. Remodeling property is always a tough decision." That made everyone laugh. Josh reached between the cockpig's spread legs and grabbed its balls, then secured them in the humbler. A humbler isn't complicated – it's two curved pieces of wood that clamp together like a vice to trap a slave's balls. The device has two adjustable bolts to allow you to control how tightly it clamps shut. The wood is curved to fit snugly against the back of a slave's thighs, right below its ass. It's called a humbler for a reason, of course: once it's clamped in place, the faggot can't get up off its knees, not unless it wants to jerk its balls clean off. Once that humbler is on it, the pig can't do anything but crawl, and every inch it crawls tortures its balls, using the movement of its own thighs to jerk, pull and crush those worthless little orbs. The humbler is a great training tool, combining both pain reinforcement and humiliation into one simple device. I dug around in the table beside my chair and found a piece of string. I handed it to Josh. "Here," I said, "tie that bell around its drain. I was enjoying the music." That got another laugh. Josh looped the string through the top of the tiny bell, then quickly tied the string around the stumpy shaft of the faggot's nub, right below the head, so that it dangled freely, sounding its chime each time the cockpig moved or its drain throbbed. Now that it was uncaged, the piggy's drain was rigid, despite its pain and humiliation...or more likely because of it. The cockpig hated the humbler from the moment Josh locked it in place. I could tell, because as soon as he had it on the pig, Zack ordered it to show everyone how much it liked wearing it by crawling around like a good little animal. As soon as the faggot started moving, you could see the pain written across its cute young face. Every movement was torturing its nuts, swollen with months of pent-up cum, the movements of its own thighs providing the pain as it struggled to crawl around the room. Its suffering was compounded by Zack's liberal application of the cane to its ass cheeks, urging it forward, making it crawl faster and faster. At first, the faggot was moving slowly and carefully, trying to minimize the pain it was inflicting on itself with the humbler, but when Zack started bringing that thin bamboo cane down on its ass, the stupid cunt quickly realized the only way to avoid the fiery agony of Zack's strokes against its ass was to pick up its speed, increasing its own torment of its trapped nuts to the accompaniment of the little bell attached to its drain. "C'mon pig... squeal for us," Zack demanded. "Wiggle that pig tail, fuckhole!" He brought the cane down again, hard, right across both the faggot's ass cheeks, and it squealed at the top of its lungs, sounding just like a real pig, lurching forward and almost falling flat on the floor, until the humbler threatened to rip off its balls as its legs straightened. Remarkably, the faggot learned its lesson quickly – while it might fall forward from a particularly cruel blow from Zack, with its upper body flat on the floor, it remained on its knees, that beautiful, smooth white ass in the air, offered up perfectly for more abuse. Zack drove the pig around the living room like that, making it grunt and squeal like a real pig, its little bell constantly ringing out a shameful tune, while we all laughed and Josh recorded it on his phone to show his friends later. After a few minutes of this, the pig was near collapse from racing around the room on its hands and knees to avoid Zack's cane, so I directed it into the kitchen to fetch us more beers. Of course, since it needed its hands to crawl, that took it several trips, but we didn't mind. All the guys were enjoying looking at its sweet little ass wiggling the pig tail as it crawled around. "Fuck, dude, you really did a number on the bitch's ass with that cane!" Scott remarked, impressed at Zack's handiwork and the cross-hatching of deep welts all across the pig's ass cheeks. "Thanks, man. Been a while since I've had a faggot I could beat like that," Zack replied. "Well, it's all yours, guys," I said, waving my hand magnanimously toward the fuckhole. "As long as there's no permanent damage, do what you will." "Well, the first thing I'm gonna do is try out this bitch's holes. Which one should I start with?" Josh asked, unzipping his jeans. "Hmm...I'd start with its front hole. It's reasonably talented with that one. Still needs training with the back hole, but you won't be disappointed. It's still almost virgin-tight, no matter how many times I core it out. Even keeping it plugged doesn't seem to make it loose," I replied. Josh walked over to where the faggot was kneeling, trying to catch its breath, and shoved his semi-hard cock in its face. I was pleased to see that, despite the pain it was in, the cockpig's mouth immediately opened when presented with a man's cock, at this point an almost involuntary response to the presence of a penis. My training was clearly working, reshaping its feeble little faggot brain exactly the way I wanted it, turning it into a true slave for any cock presented to it. Josh was quickly sawing his seven-inch cock into the faggot's throat, holding on to its fuck handle to control the movement of its head, occasionally burying his shaft all the way down its throat and trapping the pig's nose in his pubes, letting it get a good whiff of his crotch, probably still ripe from whatever construction job he'd been working earlier. It didn't take Josh long to feed the faggot its first load of the evening. He twisted its fuck handle in his hand and shoved in to the hilt, shooting his load right into the back of the pig's throat. Once again, proving that my training of it was working, the faggot sucked out every drop of Josh's cum, then dutifully held his cock in its mouth, gently keeping it warm and wet, not sucking or licking, just holding it there, until Josh withdrew and stepped back. "Thank you, sir!" it responded as soon as Josh's cock was out of its mouth. Josh slapped it across the face lightly and backed up, as Zack was already moving into place to try out the faggot's mouth for himself. Zack is straight, so when we first met he was pretty uptight about using faggots. He loved using women, and had a couple of occasions where he went overboard and almost wound up in jail for abuse. Once I'd introduced him to the idea of a willing faggot slave he could use as roughly as he chose, he gradually began to thaw. At first, he was just into beatings and torture, giving his sadistic side a way of safe expression at a level most female bitches couldn't or wouldn't take. Every time I let him abuse one of my slaves, though, I could see that prominent bulge in the front of his pants get even bigger, threatening to rip the crotch right out of his jeans by the time he was done with his abuse. I'd finally convinced him to let one of the faggots suck him off, and that's all it took. He discovered he could not only inflict pain with his hands and feet, but also with his long, fat cock as well. As soon as Josh moved, Zack grabbed the faggot's hair and roughly pulled its head into his bulging crotch, while at the same time bringing the cane down again, this time right in the crack of the pig's ass. It squealed loudly, right into Zack's denim-covered cock, the warmth of its breath and the keening of its suffering making his dick throb and swell even more. He dragged its face back and forth across the rough denim, making it drool all over the front of his pants, before he finally instructed it to unzip his jeans with its mouth. You should have seen the bitch struggling to get that zipper down, using only its tongue and lips. I couldn't tell if it was more desperate to get Zack's big dick in its mouth, or to avoid more blows from the cane. Either way, it soon managed to get his pants undone and was smacked in the face by Zack's erection as soon as it popped out of his jeans. The faggot obediently swallowed the entire thing, showing my guest exactly what it was good for, which pleased me. Zack is very arrogant, and he loves being worshiped, so he let the faggot impale its throat on his cock for a bit. Zack's cock is uncut, around eight and a half inches, and fat enough to completely fill his fist. He was obviously enjoying watching how the girth of his cock challenged the faggot, which was stretching its jaw as wide open as possible, desperate to avoid scraping his shaft with its teeth. Ever the sadist, Zack began to fuck the faggot's mouth, deliberately bumping his crotch into the faggot with each thrust, forcing the pig backwards, which caused the humbler to torture its trapped nuts with every thrust of Zack's cock into its throat. Not content with that, Zack started using the cane again, enjoying the vibrations on his cock as the cockpig screamed from each blow. Zack showed the little pussyboy no mercy, ramming his meat down its throat while beating it with the bamboo cane, two very different rods torturing both ends of the faggot. It was pretty cruel, even by my standards. When Zack finally shot his load down the pig's throat and pulled out, the bitch collapsed to the floor face first, thumping his head against the hardwood. The face rape was so brutal, we all started clapping spontaneously at Zack's performance. The arrogant bastard grinned at us with his 10,000-watt smile, then took several bows, gloating both in his abuse of the cunt and our admiration, beaming with pleasure, his thick cock on display, shiny with the faggot's spit and still stiff as a board, ready to go again at any moment. "You're up, Scott. Give this pig a good workout before the game starts," Zack said. "Nah, not yet. I've got some other uses for it first," Scott replied, grinning. He ordered the faggot over to him, then put it to work licking the soles of his dress shoes clean, then licking his big feet and sucking on his toes, while we discussed the game about to start. Just as well, since the faggot probably needed a short break from the abuse to regain its strength. The thing I love most about these young fuckholes is that they recuperate quickly and have the stamina to take a lot of abuse. We were going to test those limits today, that was for sure. After Scott's feet were clean, he shoved the cockpig over to Josh. I could see it recoil from the nasty work boots Josh was wearing, which were covered in dirt and grime. I'm not sure how long he'd had those boots, but they'd definitely seen better days. The cumdump was licking them, gently, trying to satisfy Josh without getting too much grime in its mouth, but Josh wasn't going to allow any slacking. He was savvy enough to spot a slacking slave. "Hey Zack, hand me that cane, will ya?" he asked. Once Zack passed it over, Josh used it to encourage the faggot's tongue, whacking it on the ass and sides of its thighs, even its back, if it appeared to be doing less than its utmost best to clean his boots. The effect was immediate and remarkable. The cockpig started crying from the pain and humiliation, its tears aiding its tongue to clean Josh's boots of all that dirt, and no doubt also helping to wash some of that grime down its throat once its tongue was coated with construction dust. With the humbler locked on its nuts, the faggot couldn't even move its ass out of the way to avoid the blows without inflicting further pain on its swollen balls. Submit its ass for a beating, or flinch away and damn near tear its own balls off? A fitting dilemma for a cockpig if there ever was one. It made me smile to just to watch. I think I was right about Josh working before he came over, because when he finally allowed the faggot to remove his boots and socks, his feet smelled to high heaven. To its credit, the cockpig didn't try and slack off from cleaning his stinking feet, but immediately began licking all the sweat off his feet and from between his toes while we concentrated on the game. As bad as Josh's feet reeked, it must have been a disgusting job, but after all, that's what pigs are for. Yet, as the pig buried its face in Josh's stinking feet and licked the sweat from between his toes, the bell on the end of its drain rang constantly as its little nub throbbed with need. During the first commercial break, Scott got up and excused himself, walking up to the back bedroom. When he returned, he was carrying a large dildo and the training box, which he slid onto the bolts I have mounted on the wall. I put them there when I first got the box, near the TV, so I could watch a faggot training its holes with the box during commercial breaks in whatever show I was enjoying. Scott loves that box, and even asked Ryan (my engineer buddy) to make one like it for him. Once it was attached to the wall, Scott mounted the dildo on the box and ordered the faggot to get the big rubber cock in its mouth. Once the faggot was sucking on the dildo, Scott set the timer. He must have set it for only a second or two, because the pig immediately squealed when it received its first jolt from not pressing its nose and lips to the box. While we all laughed, the faggot got busy trying to deep throat the huge dildo Scott had chosen. The cockpig finally managed to take it all, but not before several more painful shocks. Finally, the pig managed to set up a rhythm, taking it all then withdrawing, almost like a sword swallower, making the full length of the dildo disappear on each downstroke. Twin pools, one of saliva, one of precum, collected on the floor beneath the cockpig, its vigorous sucking driven as much by its need to avoid the shocks as its innate need to obey alpha males and worship cock. Scott returned to the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table, watching the cockpig's efforts as if supervising an employee inclined to slack off. "Dude, why you got it sucking on that dildo instead of your dick?" Zack asked. "Trust me, the faggot knows how to worship a cock!" He laughed, then high-fived Josh. "Because I want to make sure it can swallow all of mine," Scott drawled, watching the cockpig take the dildo to the base. "I hate a faggot that can't take it all. The last bitch that tried and failed actually scraped a red mark on the top of my cock with its teeth." "Oooh, fuck, man! What did you do?" Zack asked, cringing at the thought. One corner of Scott's mouth turned up, a hint of a smile. "Let's just say that faggot won't have to worry about its front teeth getting in the way of cock sucking ever again." "Good for you, Scott. I'm sure that was a lesson well learned for that bitch," I remarked. "Yeah, well, I'd prefer not to have to repeat the lesson. Especially not on someone else's property. But from the looks of it, I don't think that's going to be an issue," Scott replied, taking careful note of the way the cockpig was desperately swallowing the entire length of the dildo. A visible sheen of sweat had appeared all over the cockpig, the result of its constant effort to keep up with the timer on the devilish training box. I loved the box – it was like an extension of me, demanding grueling, precise performance and punishing even slight failure with pain. I love the fact that, instead of having to do the work of training the little cunt myself, it was simply automated for me, another way to make life easier through technology. Well...easier for me and other men, but far more unpleasant for faggots. Just as it should be, of course. Finally, Scott rose from the couch and walked over to where the fag was urgently and repeatedly impaling its throat on the big dildo. He switched the box off just as the faggot reached the bottom of the dildo, the entire length buried inside it. He held its head there for a moment, waiting to see how long it took before the cockpig started to choke. I'd taught the little cocksucker well, though, and it managed almost a full minute with the big rubber cock deep in its throat before it began to gag. Even then, as it struggled for air and its guts started to heave, the cockpig knew better than to try and pull off the dildo, even if it had been able to overcome Scott holding its head in place. Finally, he let go, allowing the cockpig to slide about half the dildo out of its throat. It kept the rest of the dildo in its mouth, gasping around it, trying to catch its breath. Scott grabbed the hair on the front of the fag's head, using it to pull the bitch completely off the dildo, then dragged its face into the crotch of his khaki slacks. The cockpig immediately began using its already-bruised lips to massage his cock through the fabric, moving further down Scott's leg as his bulge continued to grow. After letting the cockpig slobber on his slacks for a few minutes, Scott unzipped and hauled out his cock, then used it to slap the pussyboy across the face with an audible smack. Some people will tell you bodybuilders tend to have small dicks, either because all the muscle development is a way to compensate for being underendowed, or as a result of too much steroid use. Either of these may be true in some cases, but not with Scott. His cock is as impressive as the rest of his muscles. It's a big, uncut club; thick, with a foreskin that completely covers the head, even when he's hard. I've had the pleasure of watching Scott using fuckholes before, and it's always an impressive sight. To see a man that big, simply stacked with muscle, pull something that formidable out of his pants and then effortlessly control the faggot he's using is not just hot as hell, its awe-inspiring. The size difference between Scott and the cockpig was stark: the huge, muscular alpha male with the pale, small-framed, hairless faggot kneeling at his feet, worshiping the half-hard shaft hanging out of the man's pants. I caught a glimpse of the faggot's eyes, just for a second, and I could see both wonder at the size of the cock in its mouth, and fear – fear of how much bigger the growing pole would get; fear of what this man would do with it once it was fully erect. Now that Josh and Zack had stretched out the cockpig's throat and it had spent some time fucking its face on the oversized dildo, Scott apparently decided it was ready to worship his cock properly. He was fully hard now, a nine-inch pillar of flesh he was rubbing all over the faggot's upturned face, occasionally beating the little cunt in the face with it, each blow leaving a shiny wet red mark. The cockpig's knelt there with its mouth hanging open like some idiot, drool trickling down its chin as Scott beat its face with his cock, each blow reinforcing the differences between them: a real man with man-sized cock, and a worthless cockpig with a tiny little drain, on its knees, craving whatever abuse the man cared to give it. Scott finally pulled back his foreskin and laid the head of his cock on the pig's tongue, then pulled his foreskin over its tongue, enveloping it, forcing the bitch to clean underneath it, to massage his cock head with its tongue even as the faggot was swabbing it clean. The cockpig had never looked as good as it did in that moment, kneeling there, sucking on a huge cock. I noticed the pig tail was moving almost in time with its tongue, the result of the faggot unconsciously clinching and relaxing its sphincter, trying to get whatever tiny bit of pleasure it could from the plug up its ass. This was the cockpig in its true natural element for the first time in its pitiful young life: naked, plugged, collared, totally exposed in front of a group of men that knew what it was and what it was good for. This was its purpose, its entire reason for existence. We knew it, and the cockpig was finally beginning to grasp the reality of what it was. Scott pulled his cock out of the faggot's mouth. He took a step back, a long strand of its saliva still connecting its tongue to his cock. The pig was mesmerized, totally focused on the massive cock in front of it, as if that rope of spit was connected to its very soul, tying it completely to the alpha in front of it as surely as if it was any other beast of burden harnessed to its task. Scott backed up another step, the string of pig spit still not breaking the connection between them, making the faggot crawl forward, desperate for another taste of Scott's cock, desperate to display its need for dick. When the fag crawled forward, Scott grabbed its fuck handle and twisted the hair in his hand, pulling its head forward onto his cock, burying his considerable length down the faggot's throat, holding its head in place as it quickly learned to accommodate the invader. Just as he'd done with the dildo moments before, Scott held the cunt's head all the way down on his cock, spearing its throat, just to see how long it would take before it started to gag. The cockpig was struggling to breathe around the mass of flesh, trying to get air into its lungs, its entire throat firmly plugged with Scott's big dick. We all watched as its face turned redder and redder, as it began to squirm and struggle futilely against the big man's grip, desperate not to choke to death on the cock buried inside it. Really, though, what more fitting end could there be for a cockpig, choking to death on a big alpha cock, knowing that its last, pathetic struggles and death spasms were simply adding enjoyment for a real man as he plugged its throat one last time? A fitting end, indeed. But not tonight. Maybe someday, when the faggot was no longer of any other use, but definitely not tonight. The cockpig had many, many years of hard, brutal use ahead of it, with tonight merely being its coming out party, like a naked, collared debutante being introduced to a world of men who will find endless new ways to abuse and degrade it. The cockpig was sputtering and spasming, genuinely choking on Scott's cock when he finally released his grip on its head and allowed it to slide back and gulp down some air. Once he was certain the little faggot wasn't about to pass out, he plunged his cock back down its throat and began slowly pistoning the entire length of his shaft down the faggot's throat, pulling out on each stroke until only the tip of his cock head was in its mouth, then ramming the entire thing inside it until the fuckpig's nose was buried in his pubic hair, its lips stretched thin about the base of his cock, his big balls banging forward on each downstroke to smack it in the chin. With each of Scott's thrusts, we could see the faggot's throat bulge as it was stretched by Scott's massive shaft, then contract as he slowly withdrew. The sight of the cockpig's throat stretching each time Scott rammed his dick inside it was enough for me. I got up and moved behind the faggot and grabbed the pig tail sticking out of its asshole. I ripped out the attached butt plug, forcing a muffled squeal from the pig's plugged throat, which must have been a nice vibration on Scott's cock, as he let out a pleased groan. I pulled out my own cock and took aim at the fag's ass, the shoved in until my balls were slapping against the faggot's ass cheeks. With Josh and Zack calling out encouragement to us, Scott and I pounded both ends of the faggot, setting up a rhythm with each other. Most of the time we were opposite, so that I was shoving my cock up its ass as he was withdrawing from its throat, ensuring that the pig was continuously impaled in one end or the other. Several times I deliberately paused so that we both rammed our cocks home at the same time. From the way the faggot tensed and groaned, it must have felt like our dicks were going to touch deep inside it. It was filled with cock, just as it was born to be, and it totally surrendered to the penetration, concentrating only on providing maximum pleasure with both its holes, just as I'd taught it. It didn't take long before I filled the faggot's ass with its first load of cum for the day. Shortly thereafter, Scott buried his cock down its throat and shot his load right into the pig's belly. As I pulled out of its ass, Scott withdrew about half of his cock from its mouth, then let out a long sigh as he started filling its mouth with his piss. He looked at me and grinned. "I figured it was thirsty after all that hard work," he laughed. After Scott finished using my urinal, I walked around and had it clean my cock of any traces of its ass, then sat back down. Zack and Josh were apparently inspired by the show we put on, because they took our places, with Josh using the faggot's front hole, and Zack behind it, using his fat cock to stretch its rear hole. Zack is such a fucking sadist. The double rape of the faggot's holes wasn't enough for him. He positioned himself so that with each thrust into the pussyboy's ass, he was also banging into its vulnerable balls trapped by the humbler. The first time he did it, the pig screamed into Josh's cock. "Whoo hoo! Fuck yeah, man, that felt awesome! Do that shit again, Zack," Josh exclaimed. Zack was more than happy to oblige. Each of his thrusts pounded the pig's guts on the inside, and its trapped balls on the outside. The pain was only half the problem the pig had, though. It also had to resist any inclination to close its teeth on Josh's cock as a result of the pain. Hospitality and respect for me aside, if the cockpig had bitten or scraped Josh's cock, I doubt even I could have saved its teeth. Josh would have surely knocked them out in a heartbeat. Not that it would have been a huge loss, of course. At that point, I'd already considered having some of its front teeth removed to better accommodate big cocks, though I'd rather they be removed by a dentist instead of an ex-con's fist. My fuckhole was learning. The months of training I'd put it through up to this point were being tested, and I was pleased to see my hard work was paying off. The pig endured Zack's repeated bashing of its nuts just as it endured the double violation front and rear, eventually milking a load from each of them men with its respective orifices. Zack finished first, but remained buried in the faggot's asshole while Josh finished fucking its throat. I glanced at Zack, and saw he had his eyes closed with a look of concentration on his face which could only mean one thing: he was pissing up the faggot's ass. As soon as he was done, Zack reached down and grabbed the plug off the floor, then slowly withdrew his cock from the faggot's ass, replacing it quickly with the butt plug. Josh was shooting his load just as Zack was sliding the plug into the faggot's cunt. Once Josh sat back down on the couch, Zack made the little ginger cunt clean his cock off, then plopped back down on the couch next to Josh and ordered the pig to lick his feet clean. I could see the fag was exhausted from the use so far, and chuckled to myself. It still had a long night ahead of it. It was a good game. Obviously, we didn't spend the entire night abusing the cockpig. The guys came over to spend time together and watch the game, which was the focal point of the evening, of course. The faggot...well, it was just a passing amusement, a convenient hole to unload some cum into, a portable urinal, and a good object for relieving a bit of stress. It spent most of the game licking my guest's feet, or kneeling in front of them so they could rest their feet on its back until we needed more beers. All the guys enjoyed watching it crawl with the humbler on, its abused balls now swollen and angry-red, its pigtail wiggling back and forth as it crawled around to the sound of the little bell hanging from its drain. We all know what happens when you drink beer, and the guys drank a lot of it. The cockpig drank a lot of piss that night from everyone except Zack. Zack loves beer, and he was putting some away, let me tell you. But he never made the faggot drink his piss like the other guys. Instead, each time he had to relieve himself, he'd feed the faggot his cock just long enough to get hard, then make it place its head on the ground with its ass up high. He'd carefully pull the plug from its asshole and shove the head of his cock in, adding a new bladderful of his piss to the load the faggot was already carrying in its guts. Eventually, there was enough you could actually hear Zack's piss sloshing around inside the cockpig's guts every time it moved. After a while, its belly began to look swollen, though whether that was from the amount of piss the other guys made it drink or what Zack put in its ass, I couldn't tell. Either way, I could see it becoming more and more uncomfortable as the cramps from Zack's repeated urine enemas racked its young body. The faggot was also contending with another problem as it knelt there with three sets of feet resting on its back: all that piss it had been fed was rapidly being processed through its body. Its bladder must have been about to burst from all that recycled beer. Between the cramps in its guts and the overwhelming need to piss, the faggot was beginning to squirm and gasp from the increasingly intense discomfort, not to mention wiggle around under the guy's feet. Zack picked up the cane and brought it down hard against the side of the faggot's thigh. "Shut the fuck up with your stupid whimpering, bitch," he causally ordered it, his eyes on the game. I suppose the sudden pain broke the ginger cunt's concentration. Holding all that piss inside it must have required a lot of effort. As soon as Zack hit it, the fag gasped from the pain and a shot of piss came out of its drain all over the floor. "Fuck, dude, you made a mess!" Josh said to Zack. "Aw, man, sorry about that," Zack said looking at me sheepishly, as if he'd committed some party foul and spilled his beer. "No, no, relax, Zack. Totally not your fault," I reassured him. "It's this stupid faggot's fault for not being able to control itself better. If anything, I owe you guys an apology for its poor conduct. Apparently, its not even suitable to be a toilet. Obviously, it's going to need further training. But since we are coming up on halftime, I think that we should probably drain the bitch to avoid any more spillage. Zack, can you do me a favor and make sure that mess gets cleaned up, and teach it a lesson about keeping my floors clean?" Zack's face lit up with that big grin of his, the one that made girls melt. "Hell yeah, man, happy to help," he beamed. "Faggot, clean that piss up." As the bitch was licking its own piss off the floor under the supervision of Zack and the others, I excused myself and went down to the basement to the cockpig's cage. I often stored it in the cage when I needed it out of the way, or when it needed a good reminder that it was just subhuman property. Can't have it getting to comfortable or mistakenly thinking it was a person, or anything like that. Since this cage was used for more long-term storage (sometimes for a few days at a time), I'd supplied it with a large water bowl, the kind they use for big dogs. The bowl has a wide, flat base and a rubber bottom, so it's hard for dogs to overturn. Because it was a nice deep bowl, it was also suitable for caged cockpigs. I thought I was very generous to keep it supplied with plenty of liquid while it was caged. Sometimes, when I'm feeling especially nice, I even put actual water in the bowl. I took the dog bowl upstairs in time to see Zack wielding the cane like a surgeon with a scalpel. The cockpig's entire ass was covered in welts, as well as the tops of its thighs. Tears were streaming down its face, both from the pain Zack was inflicting on it and the intense effort it was exerting to keep from pissing on the floor any further. Zack stopped beating the bitch long enough to catch his breath, so I took the opportunity to slide its water bowl under the fag's drain. I snapped my fingers once to focus its attention. "Drain," was all I said. The cockpig immediately began to piss into its water bowl while the guys laughed and commented on the fact that it least it could obey a few commands properly. It pissed for a long time, crying the entire time, though whether from pain, relief, or the humiliation of the men watching, I don't know. Doesn't matter really. Faggot tears are nothing but another form of lube. If the bitch is crying, you must be using it right. "Zack, I think it's about done draining. Do you think you could help keep things neat by shaking its drain to get those last drops off?" I asked. Zack grinned. "No problem, dude," he smirked, then adjusted his angle on the faggot's ass. Targeting the center of the humbler, he brought the bamboo cane down right on the fuckhole's nuts. It was hilarious! I swear that bitch levitated at least a foot off the ground, and let out a howl like you wouldn't believe, only to be drowned out by our laughter. It almost collapsed to the floor, but the humbler prevented it from doing so, with the cockpig managing to catch itself and keep its knees under it and its ass in the air just in the nick of time to keep the humbler from ripping its swollen balls off. I looked at Zack, proud of the skill he'd displayed, and pointed at the pig tail. "Zack, you want to uncork the urinal and finish draining it?" He didn't need to be asked twice. Zack loves being the center of attention, and I could tell he was enjoying showing off for the other guys. He used his foot to move the fag's water bowl until it was positioned near its ass, then grabbed the plug and pulled it out with one swift motion, causing a popping sound as he uncorked the pig. I snapped my fingers again. "Squat and drain," I ordered. The bitch struggled to position itself above the bowl, straining not to leak any of Zack's piss on to the floor, then finally released its guts into the bowl, letting out a loud groan of relief as it filled the bowl, which provoked us to another round of laughter. By the time it was done, I had to admit, I was shocked at how much piss we'd poured into both ends of the cunt. That's a big water bowl, and it was filled almost to the top with recycled beer; some of it was double-piss, urine the faggot drank then filtered through its body and pissed again. The contents of the bowl were dark yellow, and I could see plenty of cum from the bitch's ass floating in it as well. "Well, cunt?" I asked. "I know it isn't planning on leaving that in the middle of my floor. And it's definitely not going to waste the precious piss these men were nice enough to give it." I mean, really, I shouldn't have had to say even that. But the cockpig was still young and not fully trained at that point, so I was giving it some slack and being nice by directing it. With time, of course, it learned. The little fuckhole was still crying when it lowered its head into dog bowl and starting slurping up all that filthy, disgusting piss and cum. I sure hope it savored the combined flavor of alpha male piss, cum, and its own ass, not to mention whatever flavor its own waste imparted. Of course, it didn't drink fast enough for Zack or Josh. Young guys can be so damn sadistic. I laughed as they made the cunt drink faster, not just lapping up the piss with its tongue like an animal, but actively slurping big mouthfuls of urine from the bowl. Zack wielded the cane against the bitch's ass, concentrating his blows on its ass crack and hole, now that the absence of the plug left them fully exposed. Josh was less creative; he just used his foot to occasionally kick the pig's trapped nuts. But I mean, who could blame him, really? The humbler made them such a perfect target, and after all, that's what they are put there for – to amuse men. After the faggot emptied the bowl full of piss and cleaned up any remaining mess on the floor, Scott decided he wanted to try out its ass. The faggot was panting; the combination of pain and exhaustion were beginning to show on its face, but I had no intention of letting it rest, and neither did the guys. Scott used the pig's mouth to lube up his huge cock, then unceremoniously shoved into its ass. The faggot's face was priceless. I'm sure it felt like Scott was going to split it in two, and it even started to struggle a little, trying to escape the huge invader working its way up its ass. There was no chance of that, though. Scott clamped his big hands down on the fag's hips and simply held it in place as easily as he holds dumbbells in the gym. This bitch wasn't going anywhere until he was done using it, that was for sure. As he fucked it, Scott alternated his hands, using one to hold the cunt in place and the other to slap the pig's ass cheeks, already blistered and sore from Zack's cane. I can only image how that must have felt, having an arm that muscular and powerful coming down on top of those welts. Each time he hit the pig, it let out a strange, full-throated grunt, a sound I'd never heard it make before, accompanied by the tinkling of the bell tied around its nub. I'm quite sure it was a sound the faggot never thought it could make, until it had a big-dicked bodybuilder raping its asshole and beating it at the same time. We all found its grunting hilarious! Josh even pulled out his phone and recorded Scott fucking it, just so he could have the sound the pig was making. "That grunt's gonna be my new text notification sound," he grinned. He and Zack high-fived. Scott was brutal. He rammed the cockpig mercilessly, giving it every inch of his huge cock, using the full power of his arms to beat its ass. I could see its cheeks beginning to bruise from his blows. After a long while, Scott finally pulled the fuckhole all the way back on to his dick and shot his load deep inside it, giving a satisfied grunt as he did so. "Good timing Scott," I remarked. "The game is back on." Scott pulled out of the fag's ass and presented his cock for cleaning, then returned to his chair. I figured this was a good time to give the pig a little respite, so I reattached the dildo to the training box and installed the pig with the dildo down its throat. In order to let it rest at least a little bit, I set the timer to a generous 45 seconds, so that it could practice long, slow sucking strokes. I know some people at this point probably think I should have shown mercy; removed the humbler, perhaps let the faggot have a nice long rest in its cage for a while. I mean, after all, it had experienced a lot of abuse already for one day. Surely, at this point I should let it rest and recuperate? No. That may be the natural inclination, but trust me, that's not what faggots, and especially cockpigs, need. What it needed wasn't rest – it needed more use, more training, more abuse at the hands of me and my buds, all focused on making it better at its one purpose in life: serving real men. To give it mercy at this point would simply undo months of training, not to mention create a false impression in its feeble brain that it deserved mercy from men, and that men were likely to give it mercy, to coddle it. No. It had to learn. And there is only one way faggots learn, and that's the hard way. So, I let it "rest" on the training box, slowly deep throating the dildo while we watched the rest of the game, except for whenever one of us needed to piss, or needed more beer. Eventually, of course, the game was over, and we turned our attention back to the cockpig. I had something special in store as a surprise for the guys. A little "motivator" to ensure the faggot moved past the training plateau where it was stuck. One thing I learned very early on with this particular cockpig: it was deeply shy. Shy about being seen naked, shy about being exposed as a faggot, shy about anyone knowing the depths of its twisted desires, especially its need to serve and obey at any price. So, of course, I made it my mission to exploit that weakness every chance I got. I'd have been hard pressed to guess which was more painful for the faggot – being seen and recognized by these men as the depraved little fuckhole it was, or the cane Zack wielded so cruelly. The thing that made it even worse, of course, was the fact that its tiny, useless drain was hard as a rock throughout; not in spite of the pain and humiliation, but as a direct result of it, causing the hateful little bell tied to it to tinkle repeatedly, drawing attention over and over again to its shame. So, my special little show for tonight was going to degrade the pig even further, not to mention fuck with its head in ways it couldn't begin to imagine. Now that the game was done, I ordered the fag off the dildo and instructed it to clear off the coffee table while I retrieved a surprise from upstairs. When I came back down, all eyes were on me expect the pig's. It knew better, of course. I produced my surprise for my guests: a small carved box. I opened it to reveal two dice, large ones. They were antiques, made of ivory and hand carved. I'd picked them up years ago on a trip to India, and kept them for special occasions. I walked over and stood behind the faggot where it knelt on the floor. "Gentlemen, this is a special night for the cockpig. You asked earlier, Josh, if I planned to let it keep its little drain or not. Like I said, I haven't decided yet. One thing is for certain, though: it won't be allowed to cum like it has in the past. The chastity cage has done a good job of getting it used to living with full balls, but I think at some point I'll want a more...permanent...solution of some sort. What that is remains to be seen, of course. But I'm mindful of the old saying, `You don't know what you've got until it's gone,' so I though you guys might enjoy being a part of a very special moment in the cockpig's life." I lifted my foot and extended it between the bitch's legs, pulling its rigid little nub backwards, the releasing it to slap forward, ringing the bell and provoking laughter from the guys, and a deep shameful blush from the pig. I set the box with the dice down on the coffee table, and snapped my fingers in front of the cunt. "How long since it was last allowed to cum?" I asked. This was an important part of its training, keeping count of the days since it was allowed an orgasm. It really fucked with the faggot's head, since it reinforced its total lack of control over its own body, its complete subjugation to my will. I'd warned it early on: if I ever asked how long it had been and it couldn't immediately give me a precise answer, it would never cum again. If emptying its balls wasn't important to the faggot, why should such a thing matter to anyone else? "One hundred sixty-three days, Sir," it replied immediately. Did I see a small glint of hope in its eyes? Hope that, perhaps, just maybe, it might finally be allowed to shoot its load, to experience some tiny bit of pleasure for a change? "Faggots, slaves, cockpigs...they don't need sexual pleasure. They don't deserve it. Those are things for men to enjoy. I could just lock that cage on its drain and leave it there forever. But I'm nicer than that, cockpig. I'm going to give it a reward, since it has come so far in its training in such a short period of time. I'm going to allow it to cum, not just now, but in the future, of course. Now, obviously, that can't be unrestricted or even unsupervised. That would be inappropriate. And I think faggots function best with clearly defined boundaries and rules. So, here's the deal, pissbreath: I'm going to let it roll these dice. Whatever number it gets, that's the number of orgasms it has left for the rest of its life. Once they are gone, they're gone. Forever. Understand, cumdump?" The fear in its eyes was profound. It opened its mouth to speak, stunned at the cruelty of my order, but all that came out was a barely audible whisper. It was shaking as the full impact of my decree began working its way through the faggot's little brain. "Speak up, bitch. Does it understand what I'm saying and what it's rolling for?" "Ye...Yes, Master," it finally stammered, tears beginning to roll down its cheeks, a sign it was fully grasping the import of what was about to happen. Good. "Pick up the dice, then, fuckhole. Pray for sixes," I smirked. The other guys laughed at that. The pig took the dice out of the box carefully, rolling them around in its hand, its eyes closed as if it couldn't stand to see the results of its throw. Summoning its courage, the bitch rolled the dice across the coffee table, then slowly opened its eyes as they came to rest. A one and a two. The guys let out a collective "Ooooh" when they saw the results. Three. Three orgasms were all the faggot had left for the rest of its life. It knew my will didn't bend, and it had learned not to expect any mercy from me. I looked it in the eye to let it know that yes, this was absolutely for real, and that, somehow, after it came a third time, I'd ensure it never did again. Its tears flowed harder. The pending loss, the crushing weight of such a fate hanging over its head like the sword of Damocles, having no control over when, where, or how its last three orgasms occurred, was like a knife in its gut. And at the same time, as its tears were rolling down its cheeks, the bell attached to its drain was ringing nonstop from its throbbing little erection. I turned to my guests. "So, guys, that's my special entertainment for you this evening: the cockpigs first orgasm in six months, as well as one of its last. And I leave it to you gentlemen to decide how that will happen. What would amuse you the most?" Zack spoke up first, grinning, "Oh man, I've got just the thing. Time for you to open your little `slave-warming' gift." He retrieved the box he'd brought from the corner where I'd placed it, and handed to me. I had no idea what might be in the box, but, knowing Zack, it was going to be something delightfully evil. I popped open the end of the box and immediately recognized what was inside, something I'd never bought but which fascinated me. Rather than removing it myself, I placed the box on the coffee table in front of the cockpig, which was just managing to get its tears under control. "Open that and pull out the nice gift Zack brought it," I ordered. The faggot finished opening the box with trembling hands, scared of whatever "gift" it might contain. It stared dumbly at the contents once the box was open, as if its mind couldn't comprehend what it was seeing. Scott and Josh started to hoot and gasp at what was displayed before them. "I found it on one of those specialty sites," Zack explained. "They make all kind of bizarre shit, but they specialize in wild and exotic dildos. I know how much you enjoyed that dog dildo you told me about, so I knew you'd love this. Supposedly, they cast a real horse cock in plastic or something, then made dildos from that mold. So, this is totally authentic - size, shape, everything. Gonna be just like the faggot is getting fucked by a real horse, minus the smell of horseshit, of course." The device on the coffee table was a silicone nightmare, enough to take away the breath of anyone who looked at it. It was 24 inches long, according to the box insert, with a 15-inch shaft, and a bulbous head that was 8 inches in circumference. It was at least as long as the faggot's arm, and the shape, while definitely phallic, was strange enough to immediately register as non-human, a real stallion's cock. It was enough to inspire awe in all of us except the cockpig, where it merely inspired terror. Its pale skin grew even whiter as it gazed at the mottled black and tan monstrosity laying in front of it, knowing that it was impossible that such a thing would fit inside it; while, at the same time, fully cognizant of the fact that the impossible was going to happen somehow. It would soon not just be impaled on this silicone horse's cock, but worse, it would be impaled in front of an audience. I leaned over and picked up the giant dildo, amazed by the weight of the thing. The shaft near the base was too thick for my hand to completely close around it, and the molded balls at the base were heavy, adding stability to the long shaft. It had a large suction cup attached to the bottom, which I used to affix it to the middle of the coffee table where it stuck up like an angry arm. "Well, cunt? Don't just sit there in awe. Get that ass on the coffee table and start getting acquainted with its new gift. I'd start getting it wet unless it wants to take that monster dry," I told the faggot. It started struggling to climb onto the coffee table, but the humbler prevented it from maneuvering properly. I reached over and unscrewed the bolts and removed it, allowing its nuts to finally swing free, eliciting a gasp of relief from the cockpig. Its relief was short-lived though, as I swatted it on its blistered ass in order to get it moving. Slowly, the cockpig climbed up on the coffee table, fully aware it was now truly on stage, displayed as the center of attention to all in the room as it began licking up and down the giant horse's cock. I find there is no better way to throw fear into a cunt than making it lick a huge dildo or butt plug. Sure, it can see how big the thing is, even feel its size and weight, but nothing brings home the real size of the thing about to get shoved up its tight little ass quite like having to lick and suck it, knowing that anything it can't comfortably fit in its mouth is going to be an even greater agony sliding inside its asshole. The bitch was desperately licking the huge molded head of the dildo, hoping to at least ease the passage of it into its brutalized ass, already stretched from its earlier use. No doubt both Scott and Zack had thoroughly stretched its hole with their cocks earlier, as well as beaten its guts up pretty good. As much as I love to fuck a faggot's hole after its nice and sore inside, there was nothing quite like the fun of aggravating those deep internal bruises with a huge plug or dildo. The torment for a cockpig is almost unearthly, a deep ache that lasts long after whatever device you use is removed. This beast cock in front of us would multiply that effect by at least a factor of ten. There was no way, of course, the cockpig would be able to take something that size with just spit to lubricate it, but I let it think that was its fate for a while, just because it was hilarious to watch it frantically slobbering all over that giant pole, desperate to lube it enough to ease the dildo's passage into its ass. Of course, the guys were having a great time watching and catcalling the pig as it crawled around in the table, trying to lick every inch of the dildo. "Over here, pussyboy, it missed a spot," Josh ordered, pointing to a place on the opposite side of the dildo, forcing the pig to crawl and twist its already sore body in order to lick the spot he was pointing to. Zack, on the other hand, chose to stand behind the bitch with the cane, urging it to lick faster with well-placed swats against its ass, aggravating the welts he'd already raised and creating new ones at the same time. Each time he struck, the faggot's tongue went into overdrive until it had to stop and work up some more spit, at which time Zack would bring the cane down again with sharp crack. "I can't wait to see it take the head of that thing. That's going to hurt like hell," Scott remarked. A horse's cock is shaped differently from a human penis. The dildo had a large head sticking out of a sheath, just like a real horse. But this sheath wasn't made of soft, movable horseflesh, but instead of semi-firm silicone, meaning that the sheath formed a ring around the base of the head, a thick ring that would be a nightmare for the faggot to get into its ass, and a true horror once it was in there. I went upstairs and grabbed a container of lube I reserve for heavy ass play, and brought it down to the living room. I placed it on the coffee table next to the pig, which showed relief on its face for just a moment, thankful I wasn't going to make it take this pole with just spit. Then, however, it dawned on the dumb bitch what that container of lube meant: this was not only really happening, it was going to start in just a few seconds, as soon as it got the dildo slicked up and ready. On my command, the faggot began smearing the lube all over the dildo, looking just like it was jacking off a horse as its small hands tried to encircle the shaft. That's when the tears started again, its bottom lip quivering as the image in its mind of what was about to happen began to solidify, the feel of the thick shaft in its hands causing panic to set in as it visualized what it was stroking buried inside its fundament, spreading it and impaling it. I made the fag crawl around on the table as it slicked up the dildo, so that everyone had a good view of both its face and its ass at different times. When its ass was pointed at me, I reach out and spread its ass cheeks, making sure to roughly massage the welts Zack's cane had left, causing the faggot to gasp and sob. Sure enough, just as I'd suspected, its asshole was spasming as it stroked the dildo, the hole gaping open both from the brutal fucking it had received from Scott, Zack and me, and from its mental conditioning, which caused its hole to dilate any time it was presented with a cock of any type, real of artificial. I knew the faggot was trying to will its hole closed, its fear and shame making it want to withdraw into itself, but its innate need to serve men and my training were both too much, and so, despite its efforts, its hole stayed open, ready for more penetration, just as it should be. "Enough, pig. Time to get that horse cock inside it before we get bored," I said. The pig stood up on the coffee table, wiggling around until it finally got the massive head positioned against its hole, then began to ease itself onto the dildo as slowly as possible, with lots of gasps and sobs as its already-tender hole was raped by the silicone monstrosity. It had to wiggle its pretty, bruised ass a lot in an effort to get the head and ring inside its sphincter. It looked like it was trying to shove a baseball up its ass, though instead of being nice and round, the ring of the sheath was actually curved up slightly, like a real foreskin, which meant it was scraping the walls of the faggot's ass with each movement. For the first time, the faggot's drain was completely limp and practically retracted into its body from the pain in its hole. Almost ten minutes after it had started, the faggot had managed to just get the head of the dildo inside it. Clearly, this wasn't acceptable, so I decided we needed to hurry things along a bit. I opened the drawer of the table next to my chair, where I keep a number of faggot training devices handy. I pulled out a pair of tit clamps, heavy ones with a thick chain on them which gives them weight. The clamps are very cruel, basically large alligator clips with teeth. "Here, Josh," I said, handing the tit clamps to him, "do the honors and decorate the faggot, will you please?" Josh loved those clamps, which is exactly why I gave them to him. He took them and reached up to where the faggot was precariously balanced on the head of the dildo, trying to force itself past the pain to take more before I got irritated. Josh grabbed first one of its tender little tits, then the other, and began twisting and pinching them. As much as my pig has always hated having its ass used, its tits were a different matter, connected directly to its tiny little drain. It didn't take long before Josh's efforts resulted in it sliding slightly further down the shaft of the dildo, as well as its drain expanding back to its full length, looking like a pale, miniature version of a cock, the humiliating little bell ringing with each excited throb. Finally, Josh placed the clamps on its tits, making sure they were secure, each clamp causing the faggot to actually squeal as Josh let it snap closed on the faggot's tender nipple. The teeth and pressure of those particular clamps are bad, but what makes them really evil is the chain that connects them. Its weight drags the clamps (and the fag's tits) down, and every movement causes the chain to swing, creating a constant torment as the chain continually moves the clamps, making them bite harder into the faggot's delicate flesh. "Time to really see what this bitch can do," I declared. "Josh, Zack, if you guys don't mind, how about helping this pathetic cunt out some. Otherwise, we are likely to be here all day, and I'm sure we all have better things to do that watch some disgusting cockpig pleasure itself on a horse cock." Zack and Josh, of course, were more than happy to oblige, the little sadists. The stood on each side of the faggot and grabbed its ankles. I could see the faggot was about to resist, its weight on the balls of its feet, trying to prevent further impalement on the dildo. That wasn't about to stop the boys. Josh simply reached up and slapped its sore, swollen nuts long enough to distract it, then he and Zack lifted its feet off the table, placing all its weight on the dildo. Let me tell you, it's a good thing I have a bit of land and the neighbors aren't right on top of me. You could have heard that fag scream for miles as its own weight caused it to slide down that dildo, the massive shaft burying itself inch after inch inside the cockpig's guts. By the time that cruel, bulbous head and ring entered its second sphincter and lodged there deep inside it, the faggot was beyond begging, beyond making sounds even. It hung there, like a bug pinned to a card, helplessly impaled on about a foot of horse cock. I knew there was no way it would be able to take the entire length. As much as I'd like to see that, I didn't want to rupture my property before it was fully trained, so I motioned for the guys to release its legs. They placed its feet beneath it, so that the cunt was now crouching on the coffee table, almost half of the huge pole inside it, the clamps bumping around with each squirm or wiggle. I allowed it a moment or two to catch its breath, while I explained what it was going to do. I had to slap its face a few times to get it to focus on me. "Listen, cunt. It has exactly three orgasms left for the rest of its life. I'm going to be generous and allow it to have one of them tonight, right now, as entertainment for our guests. I expect it to ride that horse cock and fuck the cum out of itself, since that's the only way it will be allowed to get off in the near future. Of course, it's going to be painful as hell, but it needs to get used to that. It will never again get to cum pain-free, faggot. Its last three orgasms will be painful, the way faggots deserve. Of course, there's the possibility, I suppose, that the pain will be too much and it won't be able to cum, but that's not a big concern. If it can't empty its pathetic little nuts in the next five minutes, I'll just consider that a forfeit, and it will lose one of those three remaining orgasms forever. And who knows when it will get this opportunity again," I said, starting deep into the bitch's eyes. "I might let it try again tomorrow with some other torture, or it might not get another chance to cum for a year or more. Now, get busy, faggot. These men want to be entertained," I smiled cruelly. It was quite a sight, let me tell you: the little ginger faggot, its face twisted with a combination of pain, fear, and undisguised need, sliding its body up and down that huge dildo, the head of it scraping its delicate anal walls with each motion, the tit clamps acting as a constant separate torment. "It'll never make it," Scott remarked. "It's going to suffer for nothing, and lose an orgasm. Just watch." He sounded like he was not only confident in his prediction, but as if that would ultimately be the most satisfying outcome from his viewpoint. Zack shook his head. "Nah, it'll cum. Bet ya." "Ok, twenty bucks," Scott said, pulling a bill out of his wallet. "Twenty says the cunt doesn't cum before the time limit." Zack grinned, and told Josh to keep time as he threw a twenty down on top of Scott's money. He picked up the cane and stood up, walking around behind the faggot, which was struggling to fuck itself on the dildo. "C'mon pig, I've got money on the line. Take that dick like a good little fuckhole!" Zack said. Before the faggot could react, the cane was whistling as it cut through the air, landing across both of its stretched ass cheeks. The pig made a high, keening wail of pain as the blow caused it to lose its balance and slide further down the pole. Zack began calling encouragement to the faggot the way you would urge on a racehorse you'd placed a bet on at the track, using the cane to force the faggot to fuck itself faster and faster, to rape its own hole deeper and more completely as entertainment for us. "Two minutes left," Josh called out, a grin on his face. Regardless of how this show ended, he was enjoying watching it. Zack continued to whack the pussyboy, forcing it to slide up and down on the rubber cock faster and faster, the little bell tied to the head of its drain ringing shamefully in time with its movements. I could see from the pig's face it was almost there, right on the edge of the orgasm it had been needing, craving, begging for during the last six months, only to be repeatedly denied. Its need was written there for all of us to see; raw, desperate need, which could only be satisfied by torturing and degrading itself in front of us, making us laugh at its predicament. And laugh we all did at its pathetic attempts to reach the height of pleasure despite its torment, or perhaps because of it. "One minute," Josh intoned. "Fuck this," Zack sighed, exasperated. "I'm not losing this damn bet!" He jumped up on to the coffee table next to the faggot, and grabbed its fuck handle in his hand. With his other hand, he fished out his erection. He shoved the faggot's head down on his fat, uncut cock, and quickly fed the bitch the entire length, so that the fuckboy was completely plugged in both ends. Zack began pounding his cock into the faggot's mouth while he pulled on the chain connected to the tit clamps, tugging on the fag's nipples, twisting the chain between his fingers until the bitch's tits were pulled well away from its chest. "Ten seconds!" Josh called. He began a countdown. "Nine, eight..." At five seconds, Zack was panting from fucking the fag's mouth. He grabbed the chain attached to the clamps in his fist and jerked hard, snatching the cruel clamps off the faggot's tits in one motion, causing the pig to scream as best it could with his cock deep in its throat. Zack let out a loud groan and dumped his final load of the night right into the faggot's throat. The combined pain from its tits and the throbbing of Zack's ejaculation was more than the cockpig could handle. Just as Josh was finishing his countdown, it let out another scream muffled by Zack's cock, and six months' worth of disgusting fag scum shot out of its little drain. Rope after rope of cum flew out, some even hitting the far wall. All of us started laughing and hooting at the sight. Zack, with a smug grin, pull his cock out of the pig's mouth and picked up the money he'd won. "Told ya," he said, tucking his dick back in his pants. I looked at the cockpig. It was spent, utterly exhausted, still impaled on the horse cock but almost passed out from the power of its orgasm. The boys had used the faggot hard. It was covered with welts and bruises, and reeked of cum, sweat, and piss. I snapped my fingers to bring it back from where ever its cum-soaked little mind was wandering. "Don't just sit there resting, faggot. Clean this mess up. Now!" Slowly, painfully, the cockpig started to extricate itself from the giant dildo buried deep inside it. After all it had been through, its legs were rubbery as it pushed itself up and inch after impossible inch of the horse cock slid out of its ass. As impressive and humorous as it had been to watch it going inside the faggot, seeing the length of it coming out was even more unbelievable. Finally, with a loud groan, the bitch pulled itself off the last inch, the ring along the head of the dildo making one last, painful scrape of its guts as it popped out of the fag's sphincter. The faggot collapsed onto the coffee table while the massive, inhuman phallus remained standing, forever erect, forever ready to turn a pig inside out just to amuse some bored guys. Painfully, the faggot crawled down off the coffee table and began licking up the copious amounts of its cum, including crawling over to the wall and licking the wall clean, removing any trace of its shameful, disgusting orgasm so as not to offend the men in the room. I was pleased to see I'd trained it well – without being told, it even licked the giant dildo clean, leaving it spotless and slick with its spit. I picked up the faggot's chastity cage and quickly reinstalled it on the pig's drain. It whimpered a little bit, but clearly accepted this as a part of its new life now. "Cage," I said with a wave of my hand, dismissing it. It would be nearly useless the rest of the night after what it had been through. The faggot gratefully crawled out of the room and downstairs, where it obediently locked itself in its cage just as the guys were saying their goodbyes. After the guys left, I walked downstairs to take a look at the cockpig. It was already passed out from exhaustion, curled up in its cage like a good little beast. As I surveyed the marks covering its back, ass, and legs, I began to contemplate how far it had come in such a short time, and knew, right then, it was time for some more serious "remodeling and customization" of my new property. *********************************************************************************** Thank you to all who have written to me with feedback about this story! Your interest inspires me. Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com

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Date: Sat, 20 Feb 2021 14:27:03 -0500 From: Jeff Hamby <jeffhamby1025@gmail.com> Subject: The Cockpig 6 This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Copyright 2021 by Jeff Hamby. All rights reserved. Warning: This story contains sexual acts between adult males If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relation to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction. If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to keep Nifty in business! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html The Cockpig Chapter 6 You know what the problem is with most of the people who call themselves "masters" or dominants or whatever? Patience. They lack sufficient patience. Most of the time when they find a faggot who wants to become a slave, they try to rush things, expecting the fag to uproot his life and change everything at the drop of a hat, to suddenly go from a faggot that fantasizes about being property to actually living that way overnight. Then, when that doesn't work out, they're shocked. That isn't how it works at all. It takes time. Incremental changes, some big, some small, but all directed toward one goal: bringing out the faggot's inner self. Like stripping away wallpaper to reveal a hidden mural underneath, you have to work slowly, to keep from spooking the bitch. Trust me, your faggot has known for years what's really inside him, and is terrified of letting others see it, of what might happen if that inner self became his outer self, fully exposed to the world. My job is to bring that inner self to the surface. To get rid of that facade built up over the years which has become the fag's outer self, the face he shows to the world to convince everyone he's "normal"; and, instead, reveal what lies within, his deepest, darkest, most primal craving: the need to grovel and serve a man - a real man. Transforming a faggot into a real cockpig, a true piece of property worth owning, is a slow process. It takes time and determination to overcome all those barriers -- mental, physical, and social. The social ones are the toughest, since those are ingrained in the pussyboy's mind from a young age. Too bad, because all of that social programming normal people get is totally wrong for a faggot. Imagine how far most faggots could go, how much happier they would be, if, from childhood, they received proper training for their role in life; if they received the social conditioning they needed to fully accept what they are and how they should live, allowing them to finally take their proper places at the feet of their betters. I'd been very patient with my little ginger bitch. He was like a scared little colt at times, ready to be broken, knowing the saddle and bridle were his future, but scared nonetheless. That's why I took my time. Months I'd invested in the process; waiting, training, pushing when he balked, comforting him when the little faggot got scared, reminding him this was what he was born for, what every fiber of his being wanted, needed, craved. Once, during his months at home, during the time I'd confined him to his room except for work, he balked. He got scared that being owned property wasn't right for him, that he wasn't going to be "living up to his potential" as he put it. One Skype call corrected that. He had a full-length mirror in his room. Once I had to little cunt on the call, naked as the day he was born except for his chastity cage, I made him go stand in front of the mirror. "Take a look at yourself, bitch. Really look," I ordered him. "Now, let's talk about what we see. Do you see a man in that mirror?" "No, Sir," he replied softly. "No, you don't. Know why? Well let's start with the physical stuff. First, a man would be bigger, wouldn't he? And have more hair on his body. He'd look more like a man, and less like a boy, wouldn't he?" I asked. "Yes, Sir," he said, hanging his head. "No, faggot, get that head up. I want you really seeing what everyone else sees. Turn around," I ordered. He slowly rotated until his ass was facing the mirror -- that small, tight, creamy white ass of his with those narrow hips. "Look at that ass, cocksucker. Does that look like a man's ass to you?" He shook his head slowly. "No, it doesn't. In fact, that ass is sculpted just perfectly for one thing and one thing only. What do you think that is, bitch?" He started blushing, one of those full-body blushes where his body turns as red as his hair. "Fucking, Sir," he practically whispered. "Louder, faggot. Tell me what that ass is made for." "Fucking, Sir! It's made for a man to fuck, Sir!" he yelled. "Exactly, cunt. That ass is just perfect for a man to fuck. That ass was made for fucking. It would be a sin to let it go to waste, a crime for an ass like that not to be fucked daily for a man's pleasure, don't you agree, pussyboy?" "Yes, Sir," he replied, turning even deeper red. I ordered him to turn back around, facing front. "Now, fuckboy, what's that between your legs?" I asked. "Sir, it's your chastity cage." "Chastity cage? That's not something a man would ever let someone put on him, is it? "No, Sir," he said. He blushed again; his shame almost palpable through the computer video. "How long has it been on there, pussyboy?" I inquired. He'd better know the exact amount of time. I told him when it first went on that I couldn't be bothered to keep track of how long a faggot was locked up, and, that if he didn't know, obviously, it didn't matter. It gave the bitch something to hold on to, and kept him believing the length of his denial was significant, that his suffering mattered. It didn't. "Sir, 92 days, Sir! It's so horny Sir!" he whined, a look of pleading hope appearing on his freckled young face. "No one cares, though, do they fag?" I asked pointedly. "No, Sir. No one that matters," he replied quietly, his hope destroyed as quickly as it appeared. "Exactly, pig. Now, what's inside that cage?" I demanded. "My drain, Sir," he replied automatically. It was like making him recite his catechism, checking to see how well he'd learned his lessons and how effectively I was reshaping his mind, right down to his vocabulary. "What the hell is a drain, pussyboy? Isn't that your cock?" I demanded. "No, Sir, it's my drain. Only men have cocks, and cocks are for fucking. Mine hasn't ever penetrated anything and never will, because I'm just a faggot. This is nothing but a drain, Sir. That's all it's good for and all it will ever be good for, Sir." "Quite right, pig. It's just a small, piece of plumbing, isn't it?" He nodded, ashamed. "Look at it, faggot. Look at it right now. As much shame as you are feeling right now, look at that drain. It's swelling and filling your chastity cage, isn't it? Being abused and disgraced like this makes it hard, doesn't it? "Yes, Sir," he whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek. "So, faggot, look at that little body, that sculpted ass, the useless drain a real man has locked away as it should be, and tell me what you think you were put on this Earth for, bitch. What possible reason could there be for a boy that looks like that and behaves the way you do? What role could Nature have intended, I wonder?" He sighed, turning red again, accepting what he knew to be true. "Fuckboy, Sir. A slave. Serving a man like you or any man that will use it, Sir." "Exactly," I said. I was pleased. His training was working out well, his mind slowly reforming the way I wanted it. This was a turning point, where he finally accepted his true nature; where he didn't just think about it, or feel it, but looked in the mirror and actually saw it for the first time. Saw his inner faggot slave looking back at him from the mirror, and understood it as what he really was. After that, I knew we were on the downhill slide for his transition, and that he was almost ready to come live with me as my property. To go from "him" to "it". I'd taught him to refer to himself only as "it" early on, so I could get him thinking less like a person with choices and rights, and more like the subhuman object we both knew he needed to be. But while he lived in his apartment, that transition could never be fully complete. That moment I led him out of his apartment for the last time on a leash, after the scene with his now-former best friend and roommate, that was when the transition really happened. When I'd forced him to choose between maintaining his friendship and "normal" life or obeying me, he'd chosen to obey. He'd made the mental commitment, in addition to the physical ones. Now, he was mine. Now the real training could begin. Routine is important to training cockpigs. They need the security and predictability that comes with certain routines and protocols. It makes them feel safe in a life which is inherently unsafe; one which includes treatment on a daily basis most people would consider torture. But, just like real pigs, which thrive off what most people would consider the most disgusting slop imaginable, cockpigs thrive on what others fear -- abuse, humiliation, and suffering. I set up plenty of routine for the cockpig, especially during its training period. It quickly got used to living in its cage. Like a new dog needs to be kept in its kennel, a cockpig needs to be caged more often than not during training. When the cockpig wasn't in use in some way, I left it in its cage. I'd fitted the cage with a remote control lock I could operate from my phone. When I had the faggot out doing chores, or serving me in some way, I'd just snap my fingers when I was done with it and it would crawl back into its cage and secure the lock; waiting there until I needed it again for something and chose unlock its cage from the comfort of my couch. It knew as soon as that locked popped, it needed to crawl to me and kiss my feet, waiting for whatever I needed. Eventually, I trained it to wait silently in the corner on its knees when not in use, but that came later. The cage was vital for reshaping its mental image, reminding it that it wasn't a person anymore, or even human; rather, it was a thing that was kept in a cage, available on a moment's notice. The camera I'd installed to watch its cage was handy, because I could tell when it was sleeping. Sometimes, I'd deliberately wait until it was asleep, leaving it locked in the cage for hours until it finally drifted off, then I'd pop the locks and have it crawl to me, bleary-eyed, to perform some menial task. Suck my left big toe. Drink my piss. Bring me a beer. Then I'd dismiss it back to its cage. The message was clear: its comfort and sleep meant nothing. It existed to serve, period. Another part of its routine was pain. I hurt it some every day. Nothing too intense, but consistently, and routinely, in order to let it know that suffering would be a part of its life at all times, enough to reinforce the idea that the casual infliction of pain was my right, and that its willingness to suffer was its gift to me. Usually it was something simple: I'd see how many clothespins I could clamp on its tits at once and leave them there for a few hours; take a paddle to its ass and turn it bright red and sore, then send it on to do its chores for the day; removing its chastity cage and putting a humbler on it, the wooden slats of the device trapping its nuts and stretching them. The humbler is a device that sits behind and below the ass, holding the nuts stretched, forcing the faggot to crawl slowly and painfully, hence its name. From the first time I locked it on the cockpig, it hated it. The device is not only painful, but humiliating at hell, so of course I made sure to use it a lot during those early days. Watching it crawl around, each movement torturing those full nuts, stretching them, was hilarious. Of course, a cockpig can't work all the time. It has to eat, too. Getting it used to its new routine meant training it to a new diet at well. I was training it how to cook for me, so it was allowed to eat some of my leftovers. At least twice a week, it got a nice bowl of dog food -- kibble if I was feeling mean, canned food if I was in a better mood. It helped keep the faggot grateful for any food I gave it, and also served as a constant reminder of its status. Of course, that took training, too. The first time I gave it a big bowl of Alpo, which I had thoughtfully pissed in for extra flavor, the little pig turned up its cute little nose. When I finally ordered it to eat, it managed to choke some of it down before it started to retch. "Throw it up and you'll eat that too, fuckhole," I warned. Finally, I just took the food away and threw it out. Gave the cunt a nice whipping with my thick leather belt for its ingratitude, then let it miss a few meals. By the end of the third day without food, it was kissing my feet, begging for anything I chose to give it. Begging for the dog food. I made it wait, even then. Wait for its meal until I needed to piss again. Then it got a nice big bowl -- kibble, canned dog food, and my piss, all mixed together. Real slop for my hungry little cockpig. This time, it licked the bowl clean. I also included hole training in the cockpig's routine. My buddy, Ryan, the electrical engineer, made me this clever device a few years ago. It's a box which attaches to the wall. I can fit it with different size dildos, which attach to the front of it, leaving the dildo protruding from the wall. Special dildos. There is a nice little sensor on the front of the box, right at the base of the dildo, along with a timer and green/red indicator lights. The first time I attached the cockpig to the device, I said, "See, faggot, this will train its holes to be of better use to men. Now, get that dildo in its mouth...that's it. Here's how this works. I'm going to turn on this little switch here just like this...and now it's going to swallow that big rubber cock. All the way down, pig, until you touch that sensor and the light turns green. Just like that! Feels good to have its throat filled, doesn't it? Now, do it again. Better hurry and swallow it, fag. OOOH! Not fast enough, huh? Yeah, when that red light goes on, it shocks the hell out of you, doesn't it pig. Ha! I love hearing it squeal like that. OK, cunt, keep deep throating that cock until I tell it otherwise." I left the faggot there like that. Every four seconds, the cockpig had to have that big dildo entirely buried down its throat in order to avoid getting shocked. It was forced to constantly fuck its throat, over and over, each time making the green indicator light come on to show it was properly worshiping the cock in order to avoid receiving the painful jolt of electricity. It spent an hour a day on this deep throat training. Periodically, I varied the sizes of the dildos. Sometimes longer, sometimes fatter. One time, I use a special one shaped like a dog's cock, knot and all, just to challenge the faggot and remind it that it wasn't a human any longer. You should have seen those sweet lips stretched around that big dog knot... The device works for fuckhole training, as well. I fitted it with a big fat dildo one day and attached the pig. It had four seconds to impale itself on that huge rubber pole, then four more to withdraw to the tip and impale itself again. The first time when it missed the deadline and the electricity fried its asshole was beautiful to watch. My cockpig squealed, literally, just like a real pig. It quickly worked up a sweat, forcing that dildo in and out of its ass, trying to keep up with the unforgiving timer. Sometimes it succeeded, the dildo rearranging its guts in the process; other times it failed, usually only by a second or two, and got zapped for its failure. After the third jolt of electricity up its tender asshole, the faggot started crying and desperately fucking itself on the device, frantic to avoid another jolt. Fuckhole training was every other day. On those days, there was nothing I loved more than pulling it off the device, when its hole was sore, stretched, and fried, and ramming my big cock inside it. Fucking its hole when it has been thoroughly abused is the best. It squirms and cries, panting like a bitch in heat as I hit all the sore spots left by the dildo. I can make it squeal even louder than the electric shock when I punch-fuck it with my cock, ramming into the pig's tight little ass. And when we are done, it never fails to drop to its knees, lick my cock clean, and thank me for using it. For training it. For my cruelty and my abuse. All part of its daily routine now. The cockpig has learned to hate it all. And need it all. And crave every second of it. ***************************************************************************** If you enjoyed this story, check out my new Kindle ebook,"Brandon's Boots" with expanded content not available on Nifty. https://www.amazon.com/Brandons-Boots-Straight-Dominance-Submission-ebook/dp/B08WLMBXGC/ Thank you to all who have written to me with feedback about this story! Your interest inspires me. Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/davon-white-superstud/davon-white-superstud-epilogue

Date: Fri, 16 Aug 2024 10:50:23 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Epilogue This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black muscleman with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with consensual and nonconsensual sex. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud EPILOGUE As I opened my eyes, I stretched my massive arms and then rolled over to look at my bed partner. Jamal was so gorgeous. Big muscular hunk, any gay man's dream, and he was all mine. Very gently, I pulled the sheet off his muscular body, and then slid down to his crotch. I just admired his beautiful black prick for a moment before taking it in my mouth. Jesus, I loved doing this for Jamal. And this is the way a guy needs to wake up, with his lover's mouth wrapped around his prick. I knew while I was in prison that Jamal missed me. Hell, he mentioned it often even though I talked to him once or twice a day on the phone. He really couldn't handle the running of the business by himself, and I was so dense that I thought that was the only reason he missed me. What he finally admitted to me was that he has been in love with me ever since we were fucking each other as teenagers. He was just being very patient and waiting for me to notice. That patience ran out when he picked me up on the day I was released from `Maryland Correctional'. Of course, he picked me up in a limo, but I'd barely closed the door when he was kissing me madly and unfastening my pants. Three minutes later he had my growing prick in his mouth. Hell, I couldn't say no to Jamal even if I believed that `friends don't fuck friends' because he is gorgeous. He's also a top; a real dominant stud. But, damn, does he ever know how to give a blowjob. But it wasn't just the blow job because Jamal just wouldn't stop. After he blew me, he climbed on and fucked himself on my cock, right there in the back of the limo. By the time we finally arrived in Baltimore an hour and a half later, he was trying to blow me again. So, I have a lover and I'm monogamous now. Well, almost anyway. No more rapes, which is probably a good thing, since that should keep me out of jail. Jamal and I both tend to be Alphas, so we have some pretty rough sex between us, but, as lovers, we share, and I actually bottom sometimes. But we also bring in a twink sometimes for a threesome, so we can really let loose and be as rowdy as we want. At my insistence they were usually cute white teenagers. I mean, I'd really got hooked on fucking white ass while I was in prison. Occasionally we'd bring in two boys so we can get long, drawn out blowjobs while lying back on the bed necking with each other. And let me tell you, there ain't anything quite like kissing your lover while you're each getting blown, or while you're both plowing into tight little teenage asses. So, I was happy, and I was in love. We spread out from the drug business into real estate and were doing very well so we had unlimited funds and being Boss wasn't particularly strenuous. I already told you that my penthouse was a palace, and with Jamal next to me in bed every night it was damn near perfect. Believe it or not, it was even better than being in prison. THE END I hope you enjoyed my story. gladiatorkid@hotmail.com ddcolwell@live.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/davon-white-superstud/davon-white-superstud-7

Date: Sat, 29 Jun 2024 12:07:52 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter 7 This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black muscleman with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with consensual and nonconsensual sex. Warning: this chapter of this gay story has straight (man/women) sex as part of the story line. If has If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Seven What are we going to do about Ralph?" I asked. "I guess he's still got the cars, and all the other shit we've given him while I was in prison. But I don't need him anymore." "Yeah, we're still paying him, and I suppose he's still available, even out of prison. I thought you liked it with .... ahhh .... with him" Jamal said. "You told me you had some amazing ejaculations in his office." "Okay, so that was pretty damn hot, having the Deputy Warden sticking his tongue up my ass a couple times. I woulda never touched Ralph under normal circumstances because he's a skinny runt and a fuckin wimp and he sure as hell ain't no teenager anymore. But it was exciting because he was the boss." "How about his wife, Marge?" Raylon said. "She's a real looker." "Oh, yeah" I leered at him. "You know her?" "Yeah, I thought she should get to know me, so I visited her every once in a while." "Oh?" I said with surprise. "She let you in the house?" "Well, I didn't actually give her much choice" he chuckled. "I'd have her get me a drink and I'd just set there drooling over her hot bod. I mean, she's only about twenty-five and a real looker and she loved having me admire her. " "You do her?" I asked. "Well, no, not really" he answered with a grin. "What the fuck does that mean, `not really'?" I asked, grinning back at him. "We have a business relationship with Ralph so I decided I wouldn't screw her, but I ain't against having a little fun. I mean, those knockers of hers! Jesus! You know how I am about bitches with big tits. Well, she's got `em. Great big gazongas sticking out, I couldn't keep my hands off." "You were playing with her tits, but you didn't fuck her? Huh?" "Okay, okay, so I'd have her put on a little show for me while I was there. She'd take her top off and dance a little, making those knockers bounce in my face while I jerked off." "But you were grabbing her tits, you said? Yeah?" "Well shit, I ain't got that much will power" he said with a laugh. "You bounce those big jugs in front of my face I gotta play with `em. That's just human nature, Boss." "Sounds to me like you did everything except fuck her." "I may have had my fingers up her clit a couple times, and she got pretty good at jerking me off, but we didn't kiss or nothing. Weren't no big deal. It was all in good fun." "She jerked you off?" I asked in surprise. "Ralph's society wife jerked you off?" "Hey? You know I got a big one down here" he laughed. "Hell, I think she was damn well fascinated by it, great big black nigger dick. Once I showed her what to do, she couldn't keep her hands off. I mean, come on, Boss," he laughed again, "you think I can't make any bitch do whatever the hell I want her to do?" "Oh yeah. I know all about you and your bitches." For Raylon, all women were bitches to be used for his pleasure and he tended to use them up. "All in good fun though, hey?" "Well, yeah, you know me, Boss. I may have been a little insistent getting her to perform for me that first time. I mean, what do you expect from a society bitch like her, but I never hurt her. And I didn't strip her but that very first time either; she did it willingly after that. Well, almost willingly. But hell, Boss, with this kisser of mine you think an uppity white bitch like Marge is going to come on to me without I give her a little encouragement?" he asked, making a face to emphasize his homely features. "I didn't hurt her none. I was just playin with her and those big gazongas of hers." "Yeah. I know all about you and big gazongas" I laughed. "It's a wonder you haven't been sent to prison." "Hey Boss, I don't rape `em, I worship `em" he laughed. "There ain't nothing like burying your face between a big pair of knockers on a pretty white girl. I mean, I had one just yesterday, 38DD and ...." "Okay, okay, I get the idea" I laughed. "You like white girls with big knockers who are into black dick." "You betcha, Boss, and those bitches ain't that hard to find" he answered. "Hell, the white boys around here would give their right arm to have even half the white pussy I get. I mean, since we're in the business, I pick the real beauties and just dangle a little `shit' in front of their faces, and they can't get into my pants quick enough. But I like to think it's my pretty face and this big dick they're after." We both laughed at this, because Raylon was anything but pretty; in fact, he's the original `big ugly'. With that face and his enormous bulk, he was enough to scare the bejesus out of your grandmother's ghost. "Yup" I said. "I know they're turned on to that pretty face of yours. Okay, now, so you were screwing around with Ralph's wife. It's funny Ralph never complained about it or anything." "Maybe she never told him" Raylon said. "I mean, it'd be pretty embarrassing to admit she was spending some afternoons performing for a nigger and kissing his dick." "Kissing?" I asked. "Kissing your dick?" "I didn't say I didn't have the bitch admiring my dick, I just said I didn't fuck her" he said with a laugh. "She admired the hell out of my dick." "I'll bet she did" I said. "With a little encouragement from me, she learned to kiss it. I didn't force her or nothing. I just made it clear to her that .... Well, you know; I outweigh her by two hundred pounds so I can be pretty damn intimidating. It weren't no biggie. I simply told her she was going to kiss my dick, and she damn well kissed my dick. Hey, that's just the way it goes with me and bitches. I tell `em what to do and they do it. Ain't no hassle." "Shit, Raylon, you are something else" I said with awe. "I don't know how you do it." "I learned this shit from you, Boss" he said. "Ain't nobody around controls cunts like you do. Only difference is I sweet talk `em instead of beating the shit out of `em. You might want to take some lessons from me" he said with a grin. That didn't set too well with me. "You think I should take lessons from you?" "Hell yes, Boss. You should see the way I sweet talk `em" he laughed. "I pull out some coke, or whatever they're into at the moment, and talk `em up a little and they're more than happy to kiss my ass. And I mean that literally. They'll do anything to keep me happy since I'm keeping them happy. But don't think I'm easy on them because I sure's hell don't mollycoddle them. They learn damn quick to do what Raylon tells them to do." "I know they do" I chuckled. "I know they do." Raylon was mostly into S/M and to him all women were bitches to be used and abused and he generally treated them like dirt. Jamal got in on the conversation. "Whatever the case, Davon, they're still on the payroll" he said. "After all, Ralph's bought and paid for and she's part of the benefit, so she belongs to us if you're interested. Sounds like Raylon's got her all warmed up, so even if you're not into big tits, she'd probably be a good lay. I mean, how long has it been since you've had some pussy? You used to love it." I had to laugh at that, because I used to brag about all the gorgeous pussy I got and how wild they were about my big dick. But since I'd been in prison, I'd gotten into boys, and only occasionally fucked some of the guards. "Hey, have you seen that kid of hers," Raylon asked, "that stepson?" "Ahhh... who?" "The kid we got the Audi for. Her seventeen-year-old stepson; he was her aunt's kid I think. He's a dark-haired beauty and quite a hunk besides. He works out all the time so he's probably just your type." "There you are" Jamal said with a grin. "We keep them on the payroll for a while and you can take your pick or have all three of them if you want. That should get that big dick of yours hard." "You know" I said grinning back at Jamal and reaching down and groping myself, "fucking Ralph's wife while I make him watch would be one hell of a turn on. And I'm always ready to screw a pretty seventeen-year-old." "Yeah, I thought you'd go for that" Jamal said with a smile. "I think Raylon can get that set up." "Yeah, Boss" Raylon said. "I'll get the kid here in the morning, if that's okay, and I already told the bitch, ahhh... Marge, that's her name; I told Marge we'd be by after lunch. But I don't know; you want Ralph there when you do her?" "Well, that was the idea" I said. "I'm not turned on to big gazongas as much as you are, but humiliating Ralph has always been fun. I mean, he's such a fuckin wimp. Doing his wife while he watches should be pretty damn special." Both Jamal and Raylon laughed. "Shit" I said, getting excited and groping myself again, "maybe I could have him kiss my ass while I'm fucking her." "Okay, okay, don't get carried away" Jamal laughed. "Don't get too boned up right now. We're talking about tomorrow, not today. But if you want Ralph there, we'll get him there. Raylon?" "Yeah" Raylon answered. "I'll get on the phone right now and make sure Ralph's home tomorrow." "Well, you did get me all boned up, you bastard" I said giving Jamal a big grin. "Is that blond kid, Jimmy, still here?" "Yeah" Raylon said "but I was going to let him go this morning." "Not until after I've fucked him once more" I said. "Get him in here." ------------- I'd only been out of bed for twenty minutes or so doing some stretches and getting the kinks out of my muscles when Terrell knocked on the bedroom door. "In" I said. "Good morning, Sir" he said as he stepped into the room and got down on his knees. Terrell was the latest addition to my entourage of houseboys, and I now had three: Carl, Dwight, and Terrell. Terrell was a nineteen-year-old black boy, kinda slim, but working out with me he wouldn't stay that way very long. I not only had him busting his butt in the gym, but I kept him in sausages so he could work on being a better cocksucker. I was doing my crunches, so I just ignored him until I'd counted out 300. Three hundred crunches and forty fast pushups will really get the blood circulating and wake a guy up in the morning. When I stood up and grabbed a towel off the dresser, he crawled over to me on hands and knees, bent down, and gave each of my feet a kiss. "Good morning, Sir" he repeated. "Good morning, Terrell" I answered. "Is the boy here?" "Yes, sir. The Warden's son, Adam, is waiting in the entrance hall. He was fifteen minutes late." "So?" "Yes, sir. He was supposed to be here at 7:30 but didn't arrive until 7:45." "Tell Raylon to see to him because I'm going to work out first. Where's Carl?" "In the gym waiting for you, sir" he answered. "May I get Dwight up now, sir?" "Yeah, drag his ass out and put him to work" I laughed. "I didn't wear him out that much." Terrell got up and went to the bed to wake Dwight while I headed for the gym. Raylon was coming out when I got there. "I just worked out, Boss" he said. "I hope that's okay." "Of course, Raylon. Whenever you want" I answered. "So, the kid was late." "Yeah, Terrell told me. That's okay because it'll give me a starting point for the discipline. You want him malleable, right?" "Yeah, I don't want to deal with attitude this morning. I just want a nice tight ass to fuck." "Okay, Boss. You got it. Maybe you can let me watch you do him and his mom together later on" he said with a laugh. "Now that would be special." "Yeah, that could be fun" I said. "That could definitely be fun." I got a big grin on my face as I imagined Ralph and his wife watching while I had the boy give me a blow job. I would definitely have to consider that. When I finished my workout, I just grabbed a towel and headed down to the dungeon. Ralph's son Adam was on his knees, completely naked except for a dog collar and leash. Raylon was standing beside him holding the leash as I entered the room. "He's ready, Boss" Raylon said as he grabbed the kid by the collar and pulled his head back. I'd never seen Adam before, but he was a hunky dark-haired beauty, or at least he had been. "What the fuck, Raylon?" I said. "Can't you work them over without messing up their faces? Jesus." "Sorry, Boss" Raylon said, "but he really pissed me off and I got carried away." Tears were streaming down Adam's face and he had a cut lip and a purple bruise on a cheek and another one on his jaw. He was definitely going to have a black eye. "You want I should get somebody else? There's a couple guys downstairs buying. I'll get one for you if you want. This kid won't be healed up for a couple days." "Well, shit" I said. "It won't happen again, Boss. I'm sorry, but he was being a real shit. I'll just put him on ice for a couple days if that's okay." "I wanted him today, Raylon" I growled at him. The kid had bruises on his chest and shoulders and pretty much everywhere, but with Raylon getting a kid into a proper submissive mood, that was to be expected. Didn't matter too much to me as long as he was malleable and had a hole to stick my prick into. "Jesus, Boss, I know. And I'm fuckin sorry. He had a bit of a racial problem, so I had to take special care to knock that out of him." "Well, tell me. Is he ready?" "Oh shit yeah, he's ready. He may not be pretty, but he'll damn well do anything you want. I guarantee it." "Well, okay" I said as I peeled off the sopping tank top I was wearing and tossed it aside. "Com'er kid" I said. Raylon unsnapped the leash and gave the kid a slap to the back of the head, and the kid crawled over to me on his knees. "You know who I am?" "Yes, sir. You're Mr. White, sir." "Not bad, Raylon" I said glancing at Raylon. "Okay, boy. Kiss my feet." There was only a momentary hesitation before he said `yes, sir" and bent down and kissed my feet. "Give me your hand, boy" I said and as he raised his hand, I pulled it against my mostly hard dick which was barely covered by my sopping wet shorts. "You like black dick, boy? Huh?" He didn't answer but just had this shocked look on his face. Then we heard an actual growl from Raylon's throat, and the kid jumped. "Ahhh... yes, sir" he blurted out. "Yes sir, ahhh... Mr. White sir. Ahhh... yes sir." "Raylon says you were a racist, but I'll bet he's talked you into being a nigger lover hasn't he?" "Yes, sir, Mr. White" he said, his voice shaking as he glanced over at Raylon. "And I'll bet you want to suck this nigger's big dick too, don't you boy?" Adam had turned pale now and the tears were now streaming down his cheeks, but he answered quickly. "Yes, sir, Mr. White." "Get these shorts down" I ordered him. They were snug and now drenched with my sweat, but with some difficulty he pulled them down and I stepped out of them. I grabbed his hair with one hand and my prick with the other and bounced it against his nose a couple times. "You like that black dick, boy? Huh? You like this big beautiful dick?" Adam looked up at me but didn't answer. "Answer me" I growled. "Yes, sir. Ahhh... yes, sir" he moaned. "Look at it and tell me this black dick is beautiful" I snarled at him. "It's beautiful, sir" he gulped. "It's beautiful." "Take it in your mouth." He moaned again but then opened his mouth wide and I pushed the head of my prick into his wet hole. "Lick it and suck on it" I ordered and that's what he did. "Has he ever sucked dick before" I asked Raylon. "I don't think so, but you know seventeen-year-olds" Raylon answered. "So maybe you've got yourself a virgin mouth and a virgin ass as well." "Big black dick for a young white virgin" I chuckled. "Take some more little boy" I ordered and pushed another inch or two into him. He gagged but I still had a hold of his hair and didn't let him pull back, so he was forced to get it under control. "I told you to suck" I growled at him, giving his hair a jerk, and he started sucking again. I didn't intend to have him blow me anyway, because I had no patience at the moment for a beginner cocksucker. But it was always a good exercise, particularly with a racist cunt like this, to let him know that he was nothing more than a low life, sniveling cocksucker. I pulled back and dragging his head to the side, started banging my rock hard ten incher against his face. "Gonna get me some white boy ass now, baby. My favorite. You get him ready, Raylon?" "Yeah, Boss" he said. "Clean as a whistle and all greased up." Pulling on his hair, I dragged Adam to his feet, and just to show off for Raylon, put my arm around his waist and lifted him off the floor so he was dangling over one arm. "I love little white boys" I said grinning at Raylon as I grabbed the kid's ass with my other hand. "Hell, I could do one arm curls with this cunt." Just holding him there, I squeezed and pinched his little buns. "Oh yeah, hot little white boy ass" I said as I dropped him to the floor. "You ever suck cock, Raylon?" I asked as I just stood there and looked over at him and started playing with my hard-on. "Ahhh... well... maybe" he answered slowly, wondering what I was up to. "But I ain't gonna admit to it though." "You wanna suck your Boss's dick?" "Ahhh... Davon. Ahhh... I mean, Boss. Ahhh... what's going on?" "What the fuck you think is going on? I asked you if you wanna suck your Boss's dick?" "Ahhh... Boss. Please." He looked at me, pleading with his eyes hoping I wasn't serious. "Don't make me threaten you, Raylon" I said. Raylon had two inches and at least fifty pounds on me and he could probably whip me, but I was Boss, and it was important to show your dominance once in a while, even with friends and co-workers. Raylon was my friend, a gang member and my enforcer, but he'd been getting a little too big for his britches recently and needed a reminder of who was in charge. "Now answer my god-damn question. You wanna suck your Boss's dick?" "Okay, Boss, yes" he said, and actually moaned and whispered: `holy shit'. "Yeah, Boss, I wanna suck your dick." "Well, get your ass over here and do it" I demanded. "Get me hard. Get me ready for this kid." Raylon didn't move for a minute, watching me intently and hoping I might relent, but then came over and got on his knees. I grabbed him by the hair and looked down at him. "Who's your Boss?" "You are, Davon" he said softly. "I'm sorry. I know you're the Boss." "It's about damn time you remembered that. Now suck me." Raylon leaned forward and took my cock in his mouth. I didn't expect him to be much of a cocksucker, but it didn't matter, because seeing this giant Hercules on his knees with my prick in his mouth was more than enough to get me hot. This wasn't for me anyway, it was for him, for forgetting his place. If there's anything I won't abide, it's any of my flunky's getting uppity and pretending to be my equal. I'm Boss, and none of these motherfuckers gonna forget it for even one second. I gave him about five minutes before I stepped back pulling my cock out of his mouth. I grabbed my cock to keep it hard and looked down at him. "Say again?" "I'm sorry, Boss" he answered immediately. "You're Boss. Always. I know you're in charge and I won't forget it again." "Good" I answered as I walked over to a sling hanging from the ceiling. "Come here kid" I said. The kid had been sitting on the floor watching in awe as I turned the giant who had terrorized him, into my cocksucker. As he scurried over, I lifted him into the sling and put his legs into the straps stretching his ass wide. I didn't usually use this stuff, but I knew how it worked. Taking aim at his little pucker which was exactly at the right height, I pushed. The kid didn't scream, but he gave a hell of a groan as I forced the head of my prick into him. I knew that Raylon would have prepared him well but jamming my damn near seven inch around pecker stretched his hole like it had never been stretched before. And damn was it good; a virgin ass that was tighter than a god damn drum. Ain't nothing quite like knowing your big schlong is forcing its way into a hot ass for the very first time and stretching it to enormous proportions just for your pleasure. And knowing it was a sniveling little racist white boy, a hunky one at that, made it even better. He was crying now and making the same damn sounds I get most every time I fuck a virgin ass: `please, please stop, it hurts, take it out;' typical bullshit. That's why I stuff my underwear in their mouths sometimes when I think of it. For now, I put my hand over his mouth and pushed my pecker in some more. "Hot fucking ass" I said turning to Raylon. "Jesus, Raylon, he's tighter than hell. It feels fantastic." "I knew you wanted it tight, Boss" Raylon answered giving me a smile "so I didn't overdo the prep." "Well, I can't remember a virgin ass feeling this tight" I laughed in pleasure. "He's damn well crushing my dick." I pushed in some more, forcing his ass to stretch to accommodate my big bludgeon and the feeling I was getting was almost overwhelming. The kid was still squalling, so I kept my hand over his mouth as I now started to fuck, slowly pulling back a couple inches and then forcing my way back in. I'd forgotten to tie the kid's hands in the straps, so Raylon had come over and grabbed them for me. I think he also wanted to get closer to the action. "Really tight," I said giving him a big smile. I still had only about seven inches into the kid, so his ass still had a way to go to expand enough to accept me. He was beginning to loosen up a little as I fucked in and out, but as I pushed deeper, I had to ram in hard to get him to take the final couple inches. And then I stopped. All ten inches were now crammed up this cute boy's tight poop chute, my crotch was wedged up tight against his butt, and I was in heaven. He was still crying, but I was almost crying as well; from pleasure. You know I get a lot of sex. I fuck half a dozen times a day. But I swear to god, screwing virgin boy ass gets better every time I do it. This one was heavenly. I took my hand off his mouth, grabbed the slave collar and started seriously concentrating on fucking his hot ass. He was blubbering and begging me to stop, but I knew I wasn't tearing him up since Raylon had prepped him. Right now, I didn't give a shit how much noise he made since here in our dungeon nobody was going to hear him anyway. Pulling all the way out to just the tip, I pushed slowly, forcing every inch of my heavy ramrod in as deep as it would go. I did this three times, slowly. All the way out and then slowly all the way back in. Shit, what a feeling. Then I started to pick up speed, holding on to the slave collar and rocking the sling back and forth and really slamming it to him on each rebound. It had been so glorious just getting into him that I was hot already and knew it wouldn't take much more to cum. I kept going deep, but faster now, just enjoying the feeling of my cock sliding in and out of that tight little bunghole. "Gonna shoot up your chute, baby. Gonna fire my juice into you, and you're going to love it" I said getting totally carried away with my near ejaculation. "Oh shit, babe. Here it is" I screamed as I rammed into him and started firing like a rocket into his hot little rump. "Oh shit" I screamed over and over again as I blasted my cum into him. Really yanking on the collar, I slammed into him three more times, trying to hit his tonsils from the inside. I think Adam was a natural screamer because I wasn't hurting him that much, although he was screaming like a banshee. But I was in ejaculation heaven. In the frenzy of my ejaculation, I was really jerking him by the slave collar, literally dragging him up out of the sling with each shot. Raylon was still holding his arms and the kid was screaming bloody murder, but the feeling was glorious. The kid was still bawling as I just stood there and started to relax. "Oh, man, Raylon" I said with pleasure, "that was terrific." "I knew you'd like him" Raylon said with a big grin on his face. "I know what you like." "You sure's hell do" I grinned back. Turning to the kid I said: "Will you shut the fuck up?" He was still crying, and it was beginning to get on my nerves. Raylon let go of his arms, grabbed a hunk of hair and gave him a shake. "Shut the fuck up" he shouted right into the kids face, and the kid immediately went silent. Ain't nothing works better than giant muscle stud Raylon glaring down into a guy's face. Looking down I watched as I very slowly pulled my sated ten-incher out of the kid's tight little butt, inch by inch by inch. There was no blood, but I knew there wouldn't be. Raylon's fucked enough ass that he knows what he is doing. This kid was just a screamer. "You're right Raylon. Clean as a whistle" I said as I unfastened Adam's legs from the sling. Grabbing the collar again, I pulled him out of the sling and onto his knees. I pulled his head back, so he had to look up at me and I just stared down at him for a minute, not saying anything. He looked.... There was no anger showing on his face, maybe just... Resignation? Or maybe.... Just maybe... respect? Seems unlikely, but maybe he now understood that Davon White was not only a spectacular specimen of the African-American male with the physique of a god, but someone to be marveled at and respected, and maybe even admired. "You gonna clean up your master's cum now baby" I said. "Lick your master's pecker. Lick that pecker clean." Without hesitation he leaned forward and gently licked up and down my softening prick, sucking up every bit of my cum. Then he looked up at me again. And now I saw it in his face. I actually saw it. The little fucker did admire me! He respected my strength and power over him, and he admired me for that. I could tell by the look on his face. I think the little shit actually wanted to be dominated by me. I grabbed him by the collar, pulled him to his feet and kissed him. Not just a peck but a real tonguing, spit exchanging kiss and he put his arms around me and kissed me back for all he was worth. Damn!!!! "I can taste my cum on you, baby" I whispered. "You like this nigger's cum? Hmmm?" "Yes, master" was his reply. Master? He said master without any coercion from me? Oh yeah. This little fucker... this little white boy was totally enamored with his new black master. ----------- "Hello, Davon, ahhh... Jamal, Raylon" Ralph said as he opened the door. "Please come in ....." Raylon, the big bruiser who had no patience with anybody, had already pushed Ralph aside and was heading into the living room. I gave Ralph a dirty look as I walked by but didn't say anything. Adam was sitting on the sofa next to his stepmother as ordered and looked worse than this morning. The bruises had turned purple, and his eye was red and swollen. Marge, who I'd never met, was every bit as pretty as Raylon had said, and she did have an impressive pair of knockers on her. "Let me talk to Ralph first" I said as I stood in the middle of the room. "Come on, Marge" Raylon said as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Let's get you into something sexy for the Boss." He led her to the stairs and headed up to the bedrooms. "Go with `em, Adam" Jamal said, and Adam scurried after them. I turned to Ralph and gave him an open-handed slap to the face. "What do you call me, you piece of shit" I growled as I backhanded him. I knocked him back a step or two as he yelped and looked shocked. "Ahhh.... wha...? Ahhh... Dav... Ahhh... master?" "You fuckin forget who you are?" I growled as I grabbed his neck and jerked him up close. "You forget I'm your master? I paid for you, you little prick, and you'll remember your place." "Geeze, Dav... ahhh... master. I'm sorry. master. Ahhh.... I'm sorry." "Get on your fuckin knees" I snapped, and he immediately dropped down in front of me. "Yes, master. Okay ahhh... master." I hit him again, damn near knocking him over this time. "Yeeaaooh" he screamed. "Please. Davon. Ahhh... please, master. Please, master. I'm sorry, master." "Kiss my feet and tell me how fuckin sorry you are" I ordered. He instantly leaned down and kissed my shoes. "Without the shoes you stupid fuck." I was wearing unlaced athletic shoes with no socks, so Ralph easily slipped them off and then kissed my bare feet. "Please, Dav... Please, master" as he kissed my feet over and over. "I'm sorry, master, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kept kissing my feet while I just glared down at him. "We may be out of prison, but you're still my pissant piece of shit. Got that?" I raised one foot, put it on his neck and started mashing his face against the other foot. "Got that?" "Yes, master. Yes, master. Yes, master" he pleaded. Pushing his head to the side I dragged my foot up and down his face. "Kiss it you stupid fuck" I growled at him. "Yes, master. Yes, master" he mumbled as he tried to kiss my foot while I was damn near crushing his face. Then I stepped back. He was bleary eyed and totally shocked. I mean really shocked, because I'd never treated him like this before and he was beginning to understand what he'd got himself into by being Davon White's slave instead of his paid lackey. "You're a piece of shit, Ralph" I said, and I spit on him, a big wad landing right at his hair line. "You're a piece of shit and I treat you like a piece of shit. Got that?" He just lay there looking at me in horror. I spat on him again, this time landing right next to his nose and splattering all over the side of his face. As he reached up to wipe it off, I kicked his hand away. "Don't you fucking touch it" I snapped at him. "Davon White spits on you, you're damn well privileged to receive it." I just glared at him for a bit and then kicked him in the face with my bare foot. Didn't hurt him none but it made me feel better. "I'm going to fuck your wife, Ralph. Answer `yes master'." "Ahhh ... wha...?" "Answer `yes master' you stupid fuck" I shouted at him. "Yes, master" he whimpered. "Now again. I'm going to fuck your wife, Ralph" I repeated and waited. Let me tell you this was hard, but after a slight hesitation he said "yes, master." "Get your ass over there and set in that corner" I ordered him "and don't you fuckin move." Ralph had always pissed me off by being such a fuckin wimp. Of course, I made him that way, but that didn't change my attitude. Even though I forced him to grovel at my feet I still despised him for it. And because of that, I always treated him like shit and took great pleasure in humiliating him. And now that I was out of prison and still paying him, it pissed me off even more. "Okay, Raylon" I gave a shout. Raylon came down the stairs followed by Marge. And did she ever have the tits. Big round jugs, firm and sticking straight out with no support at all. Raylon had wrapped some kind of silky scarf thingy around them which hid absolutely nothing, but actually made them look sexier. Other than that, she was wearing a skimpy pair of pink panties. But what really brought my cock to attention was that Raylon had put a wide black leather collar around her neck and was leading her with a leash. Marge Anderson, society woman extraordinary, being led down the steps on a leash. "Oh shit, Raylon," I gushed. "You are incredible." Jamal got into it as well. "Shit, Raylon. Wha'cha doing to me? I'm gay and you're giving me a hard on." Raylon had a grin a mile wide and couldn't help but laugh aloud as he spoke. "Just for you, Boss. Hot S/M pussy all dressed up and ready to meet her master." "You are something else, Raylon" I laughed as he handed me the leash. "She's all yours, boss" he said as he stepped back. "Shit, Raylon, I'm hard as a rock." "Me too" said Jamal. "Me too." "Okay, honey" I said. "Raylon says you like to kiss his dick. Well, I'm into that shit as well. Get down there and kiss my dick." Only now was I able to pull my eyes away from her big boobs and the slave collar and look at her face. Yes, there were tears in her eyes, but they looked like tears of anger, not fear, and although she didn't say anything as I looked up, I clearly saw her mouth the words `fuck you'. I slapped her. Ain't no way I was going to accept that from some submissive white bitch. She yelped but I think Raylon was as shocked as she was. "Boss? What? Ahhh... what's...? "She told me to fuck off, Raylon." I backhanded her, getting another yelp. "Geeze, Boss, I'm sorry" he said. "God damn it, I thought she was ready. Stupid ass bitch. Give me five minutes with her Boss. Just five minutes and I'll straighten her out. She'll be begging you to kiss your dlck." Stepping over to me, Raylon grabbed the collar, yanked her hard, and dragged her across the room and up the stairs. "Sorry about that, Davon" Jamal said chuckling. "Raylon told me she was prepped, but it looks like the `master of the bitches' missed out on this one. This is going to raise hell with his reputation." We both laughed at that as we heard some shouting and a scream from upstairs. Raylon was going to make her very sorry for misbehabut I had my doubts about what he could accomplish in five minutes. "Ralph" I snapped. "Yes, master" he answered meekly. "You gonna be master of this house after Raylon gets through with Marge. No more nagging bitch. No more henpecked husband. Got that?" "Yes, master." "And you don't mind Raylon teaching her some manners, do you?" "No, master." No hesitation, just `no, master'. "Now that's how you train a sub" I said laughingly to Jamal. "Raylon needs a few lessons from me." "No question about it, Davon. Nobody trains a submissive like you do." Raylon led Marge down the stairs a couple minutes later. I don't know whether he'd been slapping her around before, but he sure had now. Both of her cheeks were red, and tears were streaming down her face. "Say it" he growled at her. "Say it." "Please, Davon" she whimpered. "Please let me kiss your dick." "Again" he growled. "Please, Davon" she repeated. "Please let me kiss your dick." "She's ready, Boss" Raylon said. "Sorry about before. "Get on your knees, cunt" he said to Marge, and this time she dropped immediately to her knees. "Kiss it" he ordered her, and she leaned forward and kissed my dick. At least she kissed the big lump showing in my tight shorts. "Okay, Boss. She's yours now and I know she's going to behave. I guarantee she's going to behave" he growled, for Marge's benefit. "Stand back up here" I said to her "and let me see those big jugs of yours." As she stood, I grabbed two handfuls of big firm tits and massaged them for a few seconds. Then, grabbing her collar and bending her slightly backwards I started working one of those gazongas with my mouth. Yeah, I was a tit man once, before I started training boy-toys. After I sucked on both tits for a couple minutes, I turned her around, grabbed two handfuls of those boobs, pressed my dick against her butt and started kissing and biting her neck. I was fully hard and showing an obscene bulge in my shorts as I humped against her booty. I'd been glancing over at Ralph making sure he was watching, and although he was crouched down and I couldn't see his crotch, he kept surreptitiously reaching down with his hand. I had to laugh aloud as I realized that the little fucker was turned on. He had a fuckin hard-on. "You watchin this, slave boy?" I asked as I looked at him. "Yes, master" he meekly answered. "Yeah, I can see you are" I said with a grin. "Getting you hard." Actually, it figures, because why do straight men like porn so much and why is so much porn rough trade? They want to see a big hot stud fucking the shit out of a big-busted babe and they'll tell you they always want to be the stud, but don't you believe it. They set there watching a big dick stud slapping a bitch around and sticking his enormous dong into her, and you can bet they're secretly wishing they were on the receiving end. And when that big-dicked stud is a black stud, you just know their heart beat picks up, they start sweating and they're mouth gets dry, lusting after that big nigger dick and craving to be used and abused. Used and abused by a black stud who knows how to deal with wimpy white boys. Hey, I love fucking straight guys. That's my game. And you know I'm one hot motherfucker so most every damn one of them puppies loved being dominated and being a pussy to my big black dick. They may have pretended not to like it, but I know what I know, and I could see it in their eyes. And by the time Davon White was through having his fun with them, they were damn well begging for more. "Okay, honey" I whispered into Marge's ear. "Let's go for the gold. Black gold. Pull that beautiful black dick out of my shorts." I turned her around and then pushed down on her shoulders. My shorts were tight to begin with, and with my enormous wanger fully hard and stretching off to the right, she had to struggle just to peel them down over the big bulge. But finally, it popped out into her face hitting her in the forehead as she removed my shorts. "Tell me it's beautiful, hon. Beautiful black dick." She glanced over at Raylon before she answered, so there was no doubt she was under his control. "It's beautiful, Davon" she said grudgingly. "Look at me, hon. Look at me and tell me it's beautiful." "Yes, Davon. It's beautiful" she said with a little more emotion this time. Hell, if she'd been playing with Raylon's dick for a couple months, she had to be wild about mine because I had him by an inch or so and was definitely bigger around. "So kiss it. Kiss the real thing, babe. Go on, kiss it." She leaned forward and kissed it, and then again and again. "Yeah, baby" I said. "Keep it up. Worship that black dick." I looked over at Ralph and he jerked his hand out of his crotch, embarrassed that I'd caught him playing with himself. "Get your dick out, Ralph" I said. "Huh?" "I said, get your fucking dick out. I wanna see it." Giving me a horrified look, he started unzipping his pants. "Get on your knees" I growled at him. He undid his pants, reached into the flap of his shorts and pulled out his white boy weenie as he got on his knees. His dick was definitely hard and already slimy with pre-cum. Marge was still kissing up and down my ten-inch's and there was no question in my mind she was doing it willingly. I suspect that Raylon had given her a whole lot more dick than he'd let us believe. This bitch was hot for big black dick. At least she was hot for Davon White's big black dick. I knew she wouldn't be a decent cocksucker, especially since Raylon contended that she'd never even sucked him off; that's what he said anyway, although I had my doubts. I just had her kiss it and lick it for a while. Hell, she was a pretty lady and a blue blood society type, so it was stimulating just watching her worshiping my dick even without having her blow me. So, I was going to fuck her. And to be honest with you, I wanted to get finished with her so I could get back to that stepson of hers. Even as battered as he was, he was a real cutie and I wanted in that ass again. And of course, I wanted to castigate Ralph some more. Pulling her head between my legs I reached down and ripped her panties open and squeezed her ass cheeks a couple times. Women don't have tight little muscly buns like young boys do so I wasn't interested in her ass. `Okay, honey. You gonna go for a ride" I said as I pulled her to her feet. "You gonna ride this black dick to heaven and back." Grabbing a handful of hair, I pulled her over to the stairway and pushed her against the railing. Grabbing her ass and lifting her off the floor, I pushed her legs apart, allowing my big black fuck stick to press against her belly. "Aim it, honey" I said. "Grab that big dick and show me where you want me to stick it." Even with me lifting her up, her face was still a foot below mine, but looking at her face as she reached for my dick, I saw no anger, no fear, no anxieties. What I think I saw was anticipation. She wanted my enormous dick. Hell yes, she wanted it. Getting a hand on my piece, she directed the head to her clit, and I gave a push, getting just an inch or so into her. "Ahhhhh" she moaned, and I wasn't even in her yet, so I gave another push, and you think she was wet? She was fucking flooded in there, so I just rammed it in banging her against the railing and slamming all ten inches into her. She screamed, because ain't no doubt, I'm fuckin huge, but as I pulled out and slammed into her again, she only grunted. She screamed when I slammed it to her a third time, but this time she screamed: "OH, YES." Yeah, she did. She screamed: `oh, yes'. It looked like she was a screamer just like her boy; at least she was when she had a donkey dick like mine in her. I doubt she screamed like this when Ralph pushed his five-inch weenie into her. Each time I slammed it to her she screamed "Oh, Yes. Oh, Yes." I was still holding her up against the railing with her legs spread wide, and basically slamming my prick up into her, knocking her up a few inches with each thrust. "Baby, I bet you've never had nigger dick up your cunt before" I said. "And now your gettin Davon White's. You gettin the real thing, baby, and you gonna love it." Evidently, I was really slamming it to her because I heard a cracking sound, like the railing was breaking. Moving away from the railing and carrying her over to the wall, I slammed her against it getting a big `oof' as I knocked the wind out of her. Grabbing her ankles, I spread her legs out wide holding them against the wall, so she was doing the splits and most of her body weight was being held up by my massive prick. I slammed it to her knocking her up a couple inches, and then slamming her back up again on the rebound. I'm not sure whether her yelling was from pleasure or pain, but I was beyond the point of no return and I didn't give a shit. Slamming it into her one final time, I bent down and bit her neck, hard, giving her one hell of a hickey, and started firing into her. "Ohhh Shiiiit" I howled, and just to show off for Jamal and Raylon, I let go of her legs, raised my arms up into a double bicep pose and held her entire weight against the wall on my donkey dick as I fired shot after shot into her. I screamed again in ecstasy as I flexed my giant biceps at this show of power and strength, as my massive pecker just held her there while I continued rocketing my load into her. "Hey, Mr. Steel dick" Jamal laughed. "Way to go." "Yeah, Superdick" Raylon laughed also. "I ain't never seen nobody do hundred-pound curls with their dick before. You definitely Mr. Superdick." You think she didn't have a look of ecstasy on her face? Hell yes, she did. Grabbing her ass and lifting her, I watched my ten inches slowly slide out of her. Backing off, I let her sink to the floor. "So, tell me" Jamal asked "pussy or pussy boy? Which is best?" "Pussy boy wins every time, Jamal," I said with a laugh. "Hot little pussy boy ass is the way to go. Hell, maybe I'm not even bisexual anymore." Turning to Raylon, I gave him a questioning look. "Your turn?" I asked. "Yeah, Boss" he replied. "I've always wanted some to that. I guess it's now or never." He walked over and lifted Marge into his arms and stepped over to the stairway. "You want the boy now, Boss?" "Yeah, Raylon. Get him down here." "Cunt. Come down here" he shouted up the stairs as he stood there with Marge in his arms. He was so huge that she looked more like a doll than a person in his arms. "You sure there won't be any repercussions from this, Jamal?" I asked. "They ain't gonna say nothing?" "No way, Davon. Guaranteed" Jamal answered. "Ralph would go to jail, and his honey and the boy know all about our `Black Guerrilla Family' and how we always pay our debts. Ain't no way they're gonna say a word. Besides, I told them this'd be the end. They'd never see us again. Is that okay?" "Yeah, that's okay" I answered. "I've had the girl and the boy now and I'm sick of Ralph, so we can drop them after this." "The leases run out on the cars in a few months, so I'll just let them go" Jamal said. "Okay, that's fine" I said. Then I saw Adam come down the stairs. "Oh shit, Raylon. What have you done? Adam was wearing a pair of frilly pink panties, had a pink ribbon in his hair, and pink lipstick. His nipples were also painted pink. "I didn't want him to be a girl" I said, laughing hard. Jamal and Raylon joined in the laughter as the kid walked over to me. "He looked..." Raylon tried to say through the laughter. "He looked... he looked so fuckin cute, I couldn't resist it." "Oh shit" I laughed as I took hold of Adam's chin and pushed his head back. "Don't you look adorable." I bent down and gave him a kiss on his bright pink lips. "Simply adorable." Jamal had actually fallen back into a chair from laughing so hard, and Raylon was roaring. "He's still the same kid" Raylon snorted, "just prettied up a little." The kid had tears in his eyes, he was obviously humiliated, but he didn't seem to be reacting. He was simply accepting his fate. "Well, honey bun" I chortled. "I guess I'm going to see if you've got a pussy down there." I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back a few feet and just took a good look. He was still the much-bruised muscle boy from this morning with big, squared pectorals, rounded shoulders and bulging biceps but painting him up like this was screamingly funny. Raylon painting his nipples was absolute genius. "Oh shit, honey, you're making me so fuckin hot." And that was true because I had a roaring hard-on. "He don't talk, Raylon?" "He's under orders, Boss. He don't talk unless you want him to." Still holding Marge in his arms and still not hearing a peep from her, he headed up the stairs. Putting one hand on the boy's ass, squeezing it and pulling him close so my boner was pushing into his belly, I rubbed my other hand over his muscular body, up his back to his rounded shoulders, bulging arms and back down to his ass. Adam was one hot little number and he'd been a great fuck this morning if overly loud, and I had no doubt he admired my strength and my power over him. But hell, Raylon was having some fun and so was I and if the little bastard couldn't stand being the point of the joke, that was too fuckin bad. Pretty little white boys who got infatuated with me after I fucked them were a dime a dozen, so no fucking way was I going to be impressed if he had a schoolboy crush on me. Besides, I intended to fuck him again, so if the little bastard wanted to serve me, all the better. "I just fucked your mom, cutie pie" I said. "She's not my mom" he mumbled. Oh, oh. So the kid had some hang-ups with his adopted parents. Typical for a seventeen-year-old, I guess. "So you don't care if she likes black dick?" He didn't say anything. "But you like black dick, don't you?" I said as I grabbed him by the neck and pulled him up on his toes and his faced only inches from mine. "Don't you?" "Ahhh... yeah" he gulped. "Tell me you like black dick" I ordered him as I stared into is eyes. "I like... I like... Ahhh... I like black dick" he croaked since I was partially choking him. "Sir." "I like Davon's black dick, sir" he responded, saying it firmly and almost defiantly. I had to chuckle at this. From his actions this morning I figured he was enamored with me, but now he was willing to say it aloud, and unbelievably, right in front of his stepfather. "Get on your knees for your master." "Yes, sir. Ahhh... Yes, master" he answered as he dropped to his knees. "Ralph, get over here" I shouted at Ralph. "Crawl, you stupid twat" I growled as he started to get up. "Raylon? Shit, where is he? Jamal, see if there's more of this pink lipstick." "Oh shit, Davon" Jamal said, trying to stifle his laughter. "This is too much. You sure you want to do this?" "Ralph belongs to me" I said "and I'll do whatever I damn well please with him. Isn't that right Ralph?" I asked him. "Yes, master" he replied, knowing he didn't dare say anything else. As he crawled in front of me, I noticed his dick had gone soft. But right now I didn't give a shit if he even had a dick. "I'll see if I can find it" Jamal said as he headed up the stairs. "Your wife's pussy juice is still on my dick, Ralph" I said. He was looking up at me but didn't react. "You hear me, fuck boy?" "Yes, master" he responded. "Good" I said. "Lick it off." At this point there was nothing too depraved for Ralph to do for me. I knew it and he knew it. Bending forward he started licking my dick. I glanced at Adam and, no question, there was a slight smile and a look of admiration on his face. He admired me for humiliating and abusing his stepfather. "Adam, show me how you honor your Master. Get down there and kiss my feet." Without hesitation he bent down and started kissing. "Worship them, babe. Worship them." "Here you are, Davon" Jamal said as he came down the stairs with the lipstick. "You want to wear some pretty pink lipstick while you suck me, Ralph?" I asked sweetly. "My pretty little slave boy in pink lipstick?" Ralph didn't say anything, but he was still licking my dick. "Here, Adam" I said. "Put this lipstick on your daddy's lips. Make him look pretty for me." Adam willingly took it and turned to Ralph. "It's all right, Adam" Ralph said softly. "It'll soon be over." "Fuck you" Adam answered, causing Jamal and me to laugh. Obviously, the kid had some issues with his stepdad, and this was getting even time. He smeared the lipstick on Ralph's lips. "Don't you look pretty?" I said as I grabbed Ralph's chin and forced him to look up at me. Adam and Ralph were both on their knees in front of me and my dick was dangling down just waiting to be sucked. I put a big paw behind Adam's head, pulled him in and banged it against his face a few times. "Daddy dog and puppy dog' I said grinning down at them. "Jamal, did Raylon bring another dog collar?" "Sorry, Davon" he answered. "He only brought two. You want I should get the other one off of Marge? Having two doggies at your feet is hot." "Never mind, Jamal" I said and then looked down. "I don't need a extra collar to tell me I got two doggies here. Okay, doggies, move in. Kiss my dick" I ordered as I put a hand in each of their hair and pulled them in to my cock. "Nice wet smooches. French kiss it. Yeah, that's it." They both started using a little tongue as they kissed up and down my big dong. I just let them go at it for a couple minutes with my hands behind their heads. "Pretty as a picture" Jamal chuckled. "Big pup and little pup lapping it up at Davon's crotch." "Yeah, it's pretty" I said. "Feels good too. Okay, doggies. Now the tip. Kiss just the tip." As they moved their mouth to the tip of my monster prick, I got a grip on their hair. "Okay, now kiss each other" I ordered. "Please, Davon" Ralph moaned as he tried to pull back. "You're going to kiss him, Ralph, or I'll break your god damn neck" I growled at him as I tightened my grip on his hair. "Now kiss your boy. Kiss him with my dick in your mouth." And of course, he did. Giving into the inevitable he started kissing Adam with the tip of my dick in his mouth. This was probably as hard for Adam as it was for Ralph, since he seemed to have no respect at all for his stepdad, and there was not that much difference in their ages: Ralph was just over twenty-five and Adam was Seventeen. "Come on, get with it" I snapped at them, yanking their hair. "Kiss, god damn it. Use some tongue." As I watched they now started to tongue each other's pretty pink lips as they licked the head of my cock. "That ain't good enough, damn it" I shouted at them. "Worship my fuckin dick and kiss each other. Make me feel it." I slammed each one of them in the back of the head to get their attention. Now they went gangbusters. Davon White knows how to make it happen. They were now licking and sucking and kissing my dick and each other like there was no tomorrow. "Go, go, go," I said, giving them encouragement and giving them another slap to the head. And let me tell you this was hot. Hotter than hell. A father and son, white guys, worshiping Davon White's big black dick while they were forced to kiss each other's painted lips. "Fuckin hell" I yelled as I watched them go at it. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit" I heard Jamal moan. Glancing over I saw that he'd pulled his prick out and was jerking it. He was every bit as hot as I was. "Jamal, you want Ralph?" I asked. "I'm taking the kid." "You got me so fuckin hot, damn it" he groaned. "Let me have him." He walked over and grabbed Ralph by the hair, and without any preliminary, pushed his dick into his mouth. I told you Jamal was a Dom. He knows how to treat submissives. Hell, I was hot to trot so I stuffed my prick into Adam's mouth. Both Ralph and Adam started choking, but me and Jamal know how to deal with reluctant cocksuckers, so we eased up just a little so they could breathe, and then pushed back in, forcing them to adjust and try harder to take black dick. I knew from experience that Ralph gave lousy head, but I also knew Jamal could deal with it. I hadn't given Adam a chance to suck me this morning, but I was going to find out how good he was right now. "Suck dick" I growled at Adam, ignoring the choking sounds coming from Ralph, and the slapping sounds and swearing coming from Jamal. I knew that Adam seemed to have a thing for me, evidently adoring my looks and incredible muscular body like everybody does, but also very enamored with my power and control over him. Seemed to me like a perfect opportunity for me to turn that respect into reverence for my dick and see about getting a really hot blowjob. "You wanna suck this nigger dick, baby? You wanna suck Davon White's big dick? Huh?" "Yes, sir. Yes, Davon. Yes, master" he blurted out, looking up at me with a look of .... a look of .... respect. He was obviously idolizing me. Complete infatuation. I gave him a smile, and I swear to God, he melted as I watched and got an enormous smile on his face. Shit, exactly like a little puppy dog. "Show me what you can do, puppy" I said putting my hands on my hips and just watching him. There was no question there was worship in his eyes as he leaned forward and started kissing my dick. Kissing and licking and sucking, total adoration of my dick. He only did this for fifteen/twenty seconds or so and then opened wide and took my monster into his mouth. "Okay, puppy, suck on it. Get that tongue a-movin." "Mmmmmm" he started humming in the back of his throat as he took four or five inches into his mouth and started sucking, trying his damndest to make it pleasurable for me. Let me tell you there ain't nothing quite like having a virgin cocksucker totally focused on nothing but paying homage to your dick. I'm an S/M Dom and tend to take control and fuck hard, but sometimes; sometimes, just for the hell of it, just for variety, it's okay to let a dedicated worshiper like Adam take over and bust their ass trying to give me unlimited pleasure. Grabbing on to his head, I slowly backed over to the sofa and sat down, pulling him along with my prick in his mouth. As I relaxed and put my arms on the back of the sofa, Adam really went at it. Kissing and licking and sucking both my balls and my cock and occasionally just holding it in his hand and simply marveling at it. The little shit really was in love with my pecker. He kept glancing up at me to see if I was enjoying his worship, and each time I smiled at him he redoubled his efforts. For the first time in months, I didn't interfere, but just relaxed and fully savored Adam's dedicated adoration of my prick. I glanced over and saw that Jamal had given up on Ralph as a cocksucker. I knew from experience that Ralph couldn't suck cock. Instead, Jamal had pushed him to the floor and sat on his face and was jerking his prick like there was no tomorrow. "Lick it you little fucker. Lick it" I heard him say. Oh yeah, Jamal was a Dom. It was at least a half hour later, one wonderful half hour of watching this pretty white boy rubbing his face in my crotch, worshiping my cock and balls with his mouth, and long after Jamal had shot his load, that I said to Adam: "Getting close, puppy, Take it deeper." Even now, I didn't force him or anything, but just let him do it as best he could. And his best was pretty damn good because he did push my monster into his throat this time. He choked and had to pull back, but immediately did it again, and choked some more. He still choked the third time but that didn't hold him back from continuing. I allowed him to use one hand to help as he started bobbing his head up and down on my cock. He was still choking somewhat but damned if he didn't continue cramming it into his throat because he knew that's what I wanted. Yeah, he knew that's what I wanted. The little shit was determined to give his black master all the pleasure he could handle, and let me tell you, that ain't bad. I have to say I was impressed with the little motherfucker. But when he reached down and grabbed his own cock with the other hand, I slapped him along the side the head. "Don't touch your dick, shit head" I growled at him. No way did I allow my cocksuckers to touch themselves while doing me. "Concentrate on my dick." And he did concentrate on my dick. Gradually beginning to speed up, he was taking it an inch or two into his throat with each thrust and with the help of his hand was getting me up there very close to the edge. "Ohhh, fuck" I yelled as I grabbed a handful of hair at the last second and pushed him away from me and onto the floor. Climbing on top of him I started shooting. "Fuck, fuck, fuck" I yelled as I jerked his head up and fired shot after shot into his face and hair. -------- "Okay, Ralph, it's all over" Jamal said as we headed for the door. "The lease on the cars runs out in about eight months so they're yours until then. I don't imagine you'll be seeing us again." We had all showered and cleaned up, and Ralph and Marge and Adam were all decked out in their Sunday best for the goodbyes. Jamal, Raylon and I had showered but our massive muscular bodies were showing in all their glory because we were just wearing shorts and little else since we'd brought nothing else with us. "Ahhh... thank you, Jamal" Ralph said. "Thank you, Raylon." Turning to me he said, defiantly "thank you, Davon." I just gave him a smile. Adam hurried forward and opened the door for us and spoke to me with a pleading look in his eyes. "Master?" he said. Shit, the kid wanted me. Jamal gave me a `here we go again' look as he and Raylon went out the door. "Please, master" the kid said. And you know? Although I've fucked dozens and dozens of kids, I'm occasionally a sucker for a pretty face. Or maybe I'm just getting old; I'm damn near twenty-four now. "What? You want to be my house boy? My servant? My fuck boy? Huh?" "Yes." he answered. "Yes. Whatever you want. Please." I knew this was just a fall back because he was pissed with his stepparents and admired me for humiliating them, but he was a cute kid. "I don't want to see you with all those bruises. Once they heal up you come by and see me." "Thank you, master. Thank you." A fourth house boy? A white one? Why the hell not? And besides, he sure has the right attitude, and with a little practice he can become one hell of a cocksucker. And truth is, Davon White can never have too many cocksuckers. Comments appreciated gladiatorkid@hotmail.com ddcolwell@live.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/davon-white-superstud/davon-white-superstud-10

Date: Wed, 24 Jul 2024 12:53:53 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter 10 This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black muscleman with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with consensual and nonconsensual sex. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Ten So, I'm sitting here in the rec room talking to Omar and Jasen and thinking: god, I hate this place. Back at `Baltimore City' I had slave boys, yes, boys, as in `more than one', boys that I had trained, all hot to trot and ready to serve my needs day or night. I had cock hungry guards trying to get my attention, I had a fantastic weight room with special privileges for using it. I had everything a guy could ask for. Shit, I was king of the world. But here I was still powerless. Oh, things were changing, and I was beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel, but it was going too slow. I needed a fuck boy desperately. For god's sake, the wrinkled ass of my sixty-two-year-old cell mate was beginning to look attractive. Let me tell you that is sheer desperation. I was so hot and horny that I've turned to my right hand, which I haven't had to do for years. "Jesus, fucking, Christ, what is that?" I gasped as I looked up. "What?" "Who?" Omar and Jasen both said as they turned around to see. And there, just entering the rec room was `Mr. Ravishing Beauty' and I just sat there with my mouth hanging open. I mean it must have been a mirage because nobody can look that stunning in real life. But there he was, the most beautiful boy-man I'd ever seen. I'll repeat that; he was the most beautiful kid I'd ever seen, bar none. Has that ever happened to you? You see a guy and do a double take in disbelief because he is so magnificent that he looks unreal? He simply has a glow about him that makes him stand out in a crowd? Well, here he was, but I had no idea who he was. But I'll tell you this, my dick got harder than it's been in days or weeks or maybe months, and it happened in about two seconds. And I swear to God, I think it was now twelve inches instead of ten. I glanced down at my bulge and it sure as hell looked like it had grown to twelve. Sorry to get carried away here, but I was pretty much overwhelmed. My cock was aching from need and desire, and I couldn't pull my eyes away from that incredible vision. "Get your eyes back in your head, Boss" Omar laughed. "Shit," I said in amazement. "Shit." I was simply speechless. "Calm down, Boss" Jasen laughed. "You look like you're going to have a stroke. And that damn snake in your pants is looking obscene." "Who is that... that... that creature?" I asked in awe. "They're just summer interns. Law school kids" Omar said. "They?" I asked. "There's two of them, Boss" Omar laughed. "There's a girl next to him. Get your head out of the clouds." Now that Omar mentioned it, I saw that there were two kids with the Warden, but I wouldn't have noticed a herd of elephants thundering by with `Mr. Ravishing Beauty' standing there. Light brown hair rather tousled with a cool unkempt look. Call it rakish or dashing or whatever, but he was one fucking gorgeous kid. And me and my dick were both standing at attention, and I'm not sure, but I may have been drooling. Young and proud and sure of himself, you'd expect someone that beautiful to look disdainful, but he seemed to have a pleasant smile on his face as he walked through the room with the Warden. My cock gave another enormous throb, trying to tear its way out of my coveralls. Then he turned his head, only for a second or so, but long enough to catch my eye. He looked away immediately, I didn't even have a chance to smile at him, but we made contact. No doubt in my mind, we made contact. "Alright" I said, as the kid crossed the room. "Tell me again. Who is he?" "They're summer interns" Omar said. "They're first or second year law students who will spend the summer volunteering to help the prisoners with any legal issues they might have." God he was a pretty kid; looked to be sixteen but I suppose he had to be in his twenties. He reminded me of my slave boy Corey from `Baltimore City'. Corey had been my fuck boy for almost three months. A real good-looking hunk, a football player type, over 180 pounds of muscle, and after I'd got him trained, a perfect cock hound. I'd fucked him four or five times a day and he learned to do things with his tongue that would drive me crazy with pleasure. Now this kid was a perfect Corey, maybe even prettier and perhaps every bit as muscular. He was wearing a suit but there was no way he could hide that hunky body, and let me tell you, I'm into bodies. I swear I've got, like, x-ray vision or something, and I can envision every muscle on a guy's body no matter what he's covering it with. He may have been only 5'9" or 5'10" but he had to weigh two hundred pounds, and I would bet you wouldn't find a single ounce of flab anywhere. The warden was giving him a tour, along with some girl, a pretty girl I suppose, but I wasn't noticing because you wouldn't notice anybody else when that boy was in the room. "I think I've got a serious legal issue I need to discuss with him right away, and it's got something to do with my cock" I said dreamingly. "What do you think?" "I think you've got it bad" Jasen laughed. "Instant infatuation." "What?" I asked. "You don't think he's gorgeous?" "Hell yes, I think he's gorgeous" Jasen answered. "But I know when a guy's way out of my league. That kid would never even look in my direction." "Hell, I don't care if he looks. I'll do the looking; and the touching; and the fucking; and... well, you know what." "He's going to be a tough nut to crack, I'm afraid" Omar said. "They're only here two or three days a week, and they take turns setting up here in the rec room for their consultations." "Hell, I don't need three days, I just need two hours. I just need to get him in private for two hours." "Not possible, Boss" Jasen said. "It ain't gonna happen." Now, to be brutally honest here, Davon White is very much accustomed to getting what he wants. Alright, so I admit that I'm terribly spoiled and am used to getting my way in most everything. I mean, we try to keep our `Black Guerrilla Family' operation clean; mostly just drugs, but the fact is, it's pretty damn lucrative and it's worth our while to keep several politicians on our payroll. We have three judges, half a dozen cops including a Lieutenant, two members of the city commission, the local congressman, and even the federal congressman. Admittedly the `Families' connections were in Baltimore, and Hagerstown was seventy-five miles away, but Jamal can work wonders, so I turned my problem over to him. "He won't do anything for you, Davon" Jamal told me. He had checked the kid out to see if there was some way to get to him. "He's only a first-year student at `Francis King Carey' and he'll only be there for the summer." "Francis who?" "Francis King Carey School of Law at U. of Maryland. Listen, Davon, he'll have no connections inside the prison to help you, and I imagine they wouldn't allow him to spend time with a single prisoner anyway." "Hell, I don't give a damn if he doesn't have any connections" I said. "I just want him. I mean, you gotta see that ass of his, and you won't believe that pretty face. He was just made for Davon's dick, Jamal. And hell, every guy I fuck in this prison doesn't have to come with benefits or be a long-term affair. Sometimes I fuck a guy simply because he's gorgeous and I want to fuck him. My cock says go for it." "Yeah, I know what you're saying, Davon, and I've got a pretty good idea what your cock is saying as well," Jamal answered. "But you need to be spending your time finding somebody who can help you and set you up like you were at `Baltimore City'. Forget that kid." "Hey, Jamal," I said, beginning to get a little tiffed, "you can take your ideas and stick them up where the sun doesn't shine. My cock needs some action. That kid's hot and I need him. I've been wanting somebody like him for months. What can you do about it?" "Okay, okay, Davon. Don't get a bug up your ass" he answered. "I'll see if there's something I can do." I had no doubt Jamal would come up with something. I mean, Raylon and Jamal were always looking out for me, and making a point of spoiling me. If I wanted something or somebody bad enough, they'd usually find a way. For example, just two weeks before I got thrown back into the clink, when I was out on parole waiting for sentencing, I saw this beautiful kid walking down the street with his girlfriend. Really gorgeous Latino kid and the bitch he was with was stacked. I was totally turned on and even had Raylon stop the car so I could get a good look, but then we just went on our way and I forgot about it. The very next day or the day after or something, he was delivered to me in my bedroom with his ass greased up and ready. They brought the bitch along too, so I had one hell of an entertaining day fucking both of them. They were completely docile and cooperative, so I know Raylon had really performed his magic on them. And they didn't even have any bruises on them. And you can bet I enjoyed it because although I'm more into guys these days than bitches, if I'm going to fuck a bitch, there ain't nothing more exciting than making her boyfriend watch while I do her, and then fucking him too. I don't know how Raylon arranged it and I didn't ask, I just enjoyed it. Any penalties for pulling this kind of shit? No way. The `Black Guerrilla Family' with me as Boss and Raylon as enforcer, we get away with just about anything. First of all, after Raylon talks to them, the kids I fuck wouldn't dare complain. But even if they did, with our connections it wouldn't made much difference because, along with the cops, even the local prosecutor was on our payroll. So, as I said, I'm pretty spoiled. But I like being spoiled and I damn well planned to be spoiled here in prison too ----------- The very next day Fred came by and said I had a call to visit the warden. The Warden? I wasn't sure the guy even existed because nobody had ever seen him. So just after breakfast Fred escorted me up to the Warden's office. The office was enormous, a large black desk in front of the windows, a small conference table to the left, and a lounging area with a sofa and easy chairs to the right. And there sitting at the conference table was `Mr. Ravishing Beauty' himself, the only person in the room. "Thanks, Fred" he said. "We'll be okay." "Okay, James. Give me a call if you need anything." Fred left and closed the door. Instead of a suit `Mr. Ravishing Beauty' was wearing a blue and white striped polo shirt with dark slacks. And if I said he was gorgeous before, I only knew the half of it. He was simply ...., simply .... Gorgeous. Outrageously gorgeous. Me, Davon White, superstud, demigod, always so sure of himself: I was overwhelmed. My jaw dropped down and I just stood there stunned. Instant hard-on, and I mean instant. "Alright, what .... ahhh .... what is it you want?" he asked as he stood up. And for the first time in my life, I was temporarily speechless. "Ahhh .... ahhh ...." I mumbled. "No games here, Davon" he said. "Just so you know, some giant talked to my sister in the mall last night. So what do you want?" "Talked to her?" I said finally getting my wits together. "Well, actually he was very polite as he gave her a note. She read the note to me over the phone, and it said that it was very important that I contact Davon White. So, what is this? Do you want me to guess?" With that comment he gave me a big smile and stood up. He was going to guess? Guess what? Now that I was over my temporary insanity, I realized that he seemed to be as much in awe of me as I was of him. His eyes had gotten big in amazement from the moment I walked into the room, and he even stuttered a bit. But now ...., he looked inviting. Hell, even `Mr. Ravishing Beauty' had to be enraptured to have a Hercules in the room with him. Now that my brain was functioning lucidly again, the real Davon White personality, the arrogant aggressive charismatic personality came back on-line and kicked into play. My coveralls were already unzipped to my waist, so I kicked off my shoes, shrugged the coveralls over my shoulders, and let them fall to the floor. I was wearing a tight wife beater that was molded to my bulging pecs and rippling abs and a jockstrap that was stretched out obscenely from the pressure of my very hard pecker. His eyes bugged out, even more than before, and his jaw dropped in astonishment from my superb physique. I gave a quick double bicep pose, and then pulled the wife beater up and off. Grabbing my jockstrap, I tucked it under my balls. "What do you want from me?" I asked with a sly grin. I brought my arms up and performed the double bicep pose again and held it. "Hmmm...? What would you like?" "Ahhh... hey... ahhh" he mumbled, unable to overcome his amazement. I walked up to him, took one of his hands and wrapped it around my dick. "You like black dick, James?" I chuckled. "You into big black meat?" "Ahhh... Davon... ahhh" he stammered but he didn't try to pull his hand back from my dick. "We're... ahhh... this... ahhh... this is the Warden's office." "Yeah, I noticed. But he ain't here, is he?" I laughed. "Ahhh... well ...., I guess. Yeah ...., he's not here?" He phrased that like a question" `not here'? Like, what? He wanted it somewhere else? "So, you're gay" I said with certainty. "I figured anybody as pretty as you had to be gay." "Ahhh... man... we..." he sputtered. Still holding his hand on my dick and squeezing it, I put my other hand behind his head and pulled him into a kiss. A deep tongue lapping, spit exchanging kiss. He returned the kiss from the first instant, and damned if he didn't put his arm around my shoulders and pull himself in against me. Shit, can you believe it was this easy? But of course, I should have known. How could I forget, even for a second, that Davon White is a fuckin god and pretty much everyone recognizes that immediately. So of course, he was smitten with me. Hell yes. he was turned on to a big dominant stud like me. I foolishly let this kid's beauty temporarily overwhelm me, but Davon White was now back in control. Moving my hand from his neck down to his ass, I started squeezing it gently. Beautiful ass, beautiful face, this kid had everything. Absolutely, positively fuckable. Letting go of his hand and his ass, I reached between us and unfastened his belt and unzipped his pants. He was squeezing my muscled shoulder with one hand and my hard-on with the other as I reached around again, pushed his pants and underwear down off his ass and grabbed those creamy white buns with both hands and squeezed. Shit, I couldn't remember the last time I had a sweet ass like this in my hands. My prick gave a jerk in his hand as I squeezed those luscious globes. Moving one hand up behind his head I broke off the kiss and pushed him down to my chest. "Kiss it, baby. Worship your man's big chest." Without hesitation he went at it, licking and sucking and rubbing his nose against it. I told you this kid was really built with striking muscles showing through his tight polo, so I was not surprised he'd be totally enthralled by my incredible body. Most body beautiful types are in awe of a guy like me, much bigger than them, with a perfectly defined physique. They knew what it took to build a body like this, and they were often envious. Putting both hands on his ass again, I lifted him up off the floor and walked across the room carrying him with me. Dropping him on the sofa I stripped him: yanking off his shoes, pants and underwear, and pulling the polo shirt up over his head. Sitting down next to him, I pulled him over so he was sitting on my lap facing me and looked into his eyes. From just inches away, he had a look of ...., a look of total idol worship. Complete idolization. He was enraptured by me and was thrilled by my aggressiveness and my taking control. I gave him a quick peck on the lips and then pushed him back down to my chest. "I know you love these big muscles, honey" I purred. "Worship `em with that sweet mouth of yours." As he continued licking and kissing my chest, he put both hands on my bulging deltoids squeezing and massaging them. "That's it, sweetheart" I crooned. "Worship me. Worship Davon's big body." As he moved his hands down from my deltoids to my biceps, I raised them and flexed them for him, giving him a good feel. He let out an enormous groan and lifted his head to look. "Oh shit" he said in awe. "Oh shit, Davon... Ohhhh shiiit." Leaning forward, he started kissing and licking my right bicep. Reaching over with his other hand he started squeezing the massive muscle with both hands as he continued worshiping it with his mouth. "Oh, baby. Oh, baby" I whispered. "That's it. Worship your man. Show me you love me." Without any input from me he moved from my bicep to my armpit and continued licking. My super hard cock gave a shudder and I gasped because this is the kind of submission and obeisance that I demand from my chattel, but this kid was giving it willingly, without direction. Grabbing his head with one massive paw, I jammed him into my pit, mashing his nose and twisting his face around through the sweat. "Don't kiss it babe, suck on it. Suck it" I demanded. "Suck those juices out of your master's pit. Do it." I gave him a slap to the back of the head in encouragement and jammed him back in, as he now sucked up a storm. Yeah, the real Davon White was back in full force. I held him there for several minutes, enjoying the amazing passion of his worship. Then I pulled his head back and looked at him. I told you he was one of the most beautiful men I'd ever seen, but now he looked glorious, his hair matted against his forehead, his face covered with sweat and saliva, with a big grin on his face, he looked to be the perfect minion to add to my collection. "Other side, honey bon. Other side" I said, and he dove into my left armpit. As he started working my pit, I grabbed his ass and pulled him in tight against me, so my big dong slid under his balls, fitting nicely into his ass crack. I could feel his own six or seven-inch hard-on pressing into my belly. "You got any cream, honey" I whispered into his ear. "Uhh-Uhh" he mumbled through his sucking of my pit. "I'm gonna fuck you, hon. Wet or dry I'm going to fuck you" I said as I squeezed his cheeks with both hands and gently humped my prick into his crack. "Let me suck you, Davon. Please" he said softly looking into my eyes. "I'll do it good, I promise. Let me suck your big dick." "I said I'm taking your ass, hon. I'm gonna split those sweet cheeks apart with my big prick." "Okay, okay, Davon. But let me suck you first. Let me get you ready." "Okay, hon" I said as I pushed him off my lap. "Go to it." He grabbed my prick with one hand, squeezed it and then leaned in and kissed it. Then he backed off and just admired it. "It's beautiful, Davon. I love a black dick. This is the most beautiful one I've ever seen." He leaned in again and started giving it soft kisses, slowly moving up and down the ten-inch length. "Mmmm, mmmm" he murmured as he kissed. "It's gorgeous, Davon" he whispered faintly. I could only marvel at this kid's actions. This awesome looking hunk, this beautiful white boy, was a total cock hound for big black dick. "Jesus, it's big, Davon. And it's so beautiful" he said as he squeezed it with his hand and backed off to just admire it some more. "You want to suck it, well suck it" I said as I pushed his hand away and grabbed a handful of hair. Taking my cock with my other hand, I took aim and pushed it into his mouth. I watched with delight as my black cock slowly entered the mouth of the most angelic looking white boy's face I'd ever seen. "Suck on it, baby" I said. Hey, I got nothing against a guy admiring my prick, but I want some action along with that admiration. I pushed four or five inches into his mouth and then let go of his hair. There was no doubt this kid knew what he was doing because he started doing wonderful things with his mouth and tongue. Teasing the tip and then sucking and licking up a storm; taking it deep and then bobbing his head up and down, and generally making me very hot. He didn't quite take all ten inches, but he got pretty damn close to it. I let him go at it for ten minutes or so, just enjoying the wonderful things he was doing to my prick, and also enjoying watching that gorgeous angelic face bobbing in and out of my crotch. Ain't nothing like watching my big black boner sliding in and out of a pretty white boy's face. "Okay, baby" I said finally. "You better get me wet cause I'm gonna fuck you." He coughed up some phlegm and slobbered up and down my prick before lifting his head and looking at me." "Let me do it, Davon. Please." "What?" I said in surprise. "You think you can handle it? It's gonna hurt." "It's not gonna hurt, Davon" he said with a smile. "It's gonna feel good; because I'm not dry." "What?" I asked in surprise, and then came to the realization. "You planned this? I'll be damned. You did plan this, didn't you?" "Well, yeah, I did" he grinned. "Yeah, I did." "Oh, shit" I said as I started to laugh. "Yeah" he said. "Davon, I saw you in the recreation room the first day I was here. Hell, how could I not see you? You stick out like a sore thumb, like a giant among pigmies. What is it they say: a rose among thorns? I thought you were the most beautiful man I'd ever seen." "Well, I'll be damned" I said. "Only today did I have an excuse to see you, so I got up the nerve to try to get you alone. I knew you'd be a tough dominant stud who would take control. I knew you would, and you certainly are living up to my expectations." "Well, climb on, babe. Let's see if that ass of yours can live up to my expectations." I slid down on the sofa cushion a little and he got back up on my lap. I put my arms behind my head and just looked up at that captivating angelic face as he reached around, took my cock and aimed it toward his little pucker. Then he gradually sat down, allowing it to slide in. He was definitely not dry because it slid in slick-as-a-whistle. Not that he wasn't tight, he was, but he'd obviously prepped himself for this. "You little son-of-a-bitch" I laughed. "You planned to have me fuck you." "Oh yeah" he whispered with a groan as he pushed down harder, forcing my big dick deeper into his ass. "Oh yeah" he said again. "I hoped you'd fuck me." "Well, you got your wish, baby. Now go to it." Starting slow, he began to lift up and then gradually set back down, allowing my monster to drive deep into his ass. The feeling was exquisite. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd let a boy fuck himself on my cock, but I know it'd been ages. I'm a control freak, but what James was doing felt so fabulous, and the contortions on his beautiful face were so marvelous that I just lay there moaning softly, watching him and enjoying the feeling of tight boy ass. We were both moaning as he gradually began to speed up, and the heat began to build up in my nuts. This kid was not only the most beautiful white boy I'd ever seen, he was an absolute genius at fucking himself on my big prick. I swear he must have been inside my prick because, every slight move he made sent bursts of pleasure shooting right through my tool and up to my brain. As he got faster, I started moving my hips up slightly, meeting each downward thrust of his ass. The feeling was heavenly. Finally, unable to restrain myself any longer, I grabbed hold of his shoulders and started slamming my throbbing dick into him, throwing him up in the air, and then slamming into him on the rebound. "Yes, yes, yes" he screamed as his cock fired, his first shot hitting me in the chin. "Ohhhh, fuuuucccck" I screamed at the same time, as I slammed him down and exploded into his ass. I kept my eyes open so I could watch his glorious face as he showed almost excruciating pleasure from shooting his load and having me blasting into his ass. I swear, we were shooting in complete synchronization, his throbbing cock spewing his cum onto my chest while mine rocketed into his ass. Perfectly timed shot-for-shot, and perfectly wonderful. "Yeeeeessssss" he moaned as fired again and again. "Oooooh shit" I howled as I fired my final shot into him. "Oh shit" I repeated. "Jesus, baby" I huffed as we both finally began to calm down. Putting his hands on my biceps, James leaned forward and started kissing my face. Soft sweet kisses covering my forehead, my nose and eyes, my mouth, covering every inch of my face, and then even licking my ears. "Thank you, Davon" he murmured. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. This was the best sex I've ever had." I just lay there basking in the lingering feelings of pleasure as he kept kissing and licking my face. Then, he slowly lifted up, allowing my softening prick to pop out of his ass. Without a word from me, he slid down and carefully licked up all the cum he'd fired onto my chest and chin and then, getting on his knees, went back to my cock and lovingly licked it clean. "And the warden?" I asked as we were getting dressed. "I knew he was out of town at a convention" he said with a grin. "Fred said I could use his office." "You little son-of-a-bitch" I said with a grin. "You are something else." Giving him one final kiss and a slap on the ass, I left the office. ------------ Unfortunately, that was a one-time only event with James. I saw him in the rec room occasionally, but we never had a chance to get together. But then again, that was probably for the best because he was almost too beautiful. I was so enamored with him that I might have backed off of my controlling temperament and actually treating him like he was breakable or something. That ain't my style. I take, I use, I control, I compel and I'm rough about it and I don't have time for lovey-dovey shit. So, back to Bradford. "Will you tell me what the hell is going on?" I growled at him. "I heard about that fight that Angel had in the gym yesterday. What was that about?" "Angel doesn't need an excuse to fight" Bradford said. "As long as the kid is smaller than him, he'll take offence if they even look at him. He sent that kid to the hospital, so he's in solitary today." "Well, what the fuck are you going to do about it?" I asked. "As a matter of fact, the Deputy Warden raked me over the coals yesterday and said I was to get that kid under control or else. So, I'm on the hot seat." "So?" I said. "Well, yeah, he's yours" Bradford answered, giving me a sly grin. "Well, hell, it's about time" I said with a big smile. "There's a conference room at the end of the solitary wing, it's bigger than the cells and it's got a small bathroom attached. It's kind of isolated and the Deputy Warden has turned it over to me for the near future." "It's okay with him? The Deputy?" "Yes, it's okay with him. In fact, it's more than okay" he laughed. "Anyway, I've put two bunks in there and the place is yours for the next couple days. The only person authorized to be there is me, so nobody is going to bother you. But you'd better give me results. I'm on the hot seat here." "No problem, Bradford. No problem. You give me two or three days and I'll have that kid as sweet as an angel" I said with a laugh. "Yeah, a perfect angel." Bradford laughed along with me. "Okay, get what you need and be ready to go after lunch. Once I get you settled in, I'll go get him so you can get to work" he said as he walked away. It was only six thirty, so it wasn't even breakfast time yet, so I had plenty of time to get ready. But hell, what did I need? I needed to be horny, but I was always horny, so I was ready. In fact, just thinking about that hunky white kid was making me hard. It was going to be tougher than hell waiting until after lunch. However, it was tougher than I thought and by ten o'clock I was going stir-crazy. See what not having a regular fuck can do to a guy? My prick was hard as a rock and refused to go down, and believe it or not, I was nervous. Me nervous? Imagine it. Davon White nervous. Jesus Christ, I hated waiting. Even though the gate between the `youth' wing was open during the day, it was common knowledge that the regular prisoners needed an escort to go in there, so I got hold of Fred. "What's up, Davon?" Fred asked. "You know damn well you can't fuck any of those young kids. The guards in there have their own little world and even I have to have a good reason to go in there." "Bradford wants my help working with that problem kid, Angel. We're going to have a conference with him this afternoon, and I just wanted to check to see if everything is ready." "Does that conference have something to do with your prick" Fred chuckled "because I ain't never seen a lump that big in your pants before." Then he actually reached over and grabbed hold of my monster. Shit, I couldn't believe it. Fred, the family man who was always talking about his kids? He was a fucking cock hound? He only groped it for a second and then tried to pull his hand back, but I grabbed him and held him there. "If I'd only known, Fred" I said with a grin. "I woulda let you have some of this dick a long time ago." That wasn't really true because Fred was on the skinny side and had to be over forty. But hell, he was a guard. Exceptions can be made, particularly when a guy is as desperate as I'd been recently. Hell, like most everybody, I stuck my cock through a glory hole once. I didn't like it because I want to control my cocksuckers and force feed them, but when you can't see the guy on your cock, you just picture him in your mind as being the most gorgeous man on the planet. Fred wasn't pretty but I could keep my eyes closed and just imagine he was my former slave boy Corey. "Don't get carried away, Davon" he said as he kept trying to pull his hand away. "But I admit I've been curious about what you've been hiding in there." "I've been hiding your birthday present, Fred. You just let me know the day" I said with a smile as I let go of his hand. "We'll make it your special day." "I bet you will" he said. "I bet you will. Now, tell me what's going on with Bradford?" "Like I said, I'm going to help him try to straighten out Angel." "I know Bradford's been coming around here some and you're both really into muscles but watch out for him Davon. He rules the youth wing with an iron fist, and I know there's some bad shit going on in there." "He rules?" "Shit, yes" Fred said. "You didn't know the Deputy Warden is his brother? His twin brother?" "What? You're serious?" "Hell yes. Bradford is head guard in that wing because of his brother, and he can do anything he damn well pleases, and his brother will always back him up." "Well, I'll be damned" I said in surprise. "I been wondering what Bradford's been up to, hanging around here" he said. "Being two of the biggest muscle hunks in the place, you certainly have something in common. But, watch out for him." "What? Watch out for him?" "Just be careful and watch out for that brother of his. He's a tyrant." "His twin brother?" "You think your muscles are big? Just wait until you see the Deputy Warden. He'll make you look puny. And he's a mean son-of-a-bitch so it's just better to keep out of his way. The story going around last year was that Leeshawn had to give him regular blowjobs." "You're making this up, Fred" I said with a laugh. "I'm surprised you ain't met him yet, because he seems to take an interest in really big guys like you" he said. "But when you do meet him, watch out." "Now you got me wondering, Fred. I definitely better check out that conference room before this afternoon." "Okay, Davon" he said, "let's go." So, he led me to the youth wing. It had a fairly long hallway with cells on both sides. At the end of the hall was a locked door which opened when Fred pushed a buzzer. "This is the solitary section, Davon, and the conference room is down there at the very end. Just ring the bell by the door here when you're ready to leave. Okay?" "Okay, Fred. You're a good guy. Thanks. And remember I'm keeping this warm for you" I said as I groped myself. My damn cock was still hard and aching as I forced it into a different position, but I wasn't thinking of Fred. Me and my cock were both fixated on Angel, and we were raring to go. Angel was a really attractive young kid, and he was also husky, and you know how I love kids with muscles. Even with the baggy coveralls he wore I could see he was hot, and at eighteen years of age he was my perfect type. I still didn't have an agreement from Bradford that I could keep him after I straightened him out, but we'd work that out later. But at least I'd be able to fuck him for a couple days. When I reached the end of the hall I stopped at the last door. As I took hold of the doorknob I hesitated, because I could hear sounds from inside. `ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh'. Hell, I know those sounds, somebody was getting fucked in there. Bradford said nobody would be in there until after lunch, so what was going on? Something was screwed up here. Very carefully, I turned the knob and pushed the door open a crack. At first glance I saw the room was empty, no bunks in there as Bradford had told me there were. At second glance I gasped and damn near fell through the floor. Strapped up against the right-hand wall was a naked Bradford, his hands outstretched almost to the ceiling and held there by wrist bands. Standing behind him with his cock up his ass was Angel, busily banging the hell out of him. Did I say Angel was husky? Well I didn't know the half of it because, standing there in the nude, he showed a jaw dropping physique for an eighteen-year-old. He may not have been tall, but he sure was wide; all of it beautiful defined muscle. He was gorgeous. The whole scene was mind blowing, but when I see a kid that gorgeous, I literally freak out. My cock couldn't get any harder, but it sure as hell was trying. Dragging my eyes away from the kid I took in the whole room. Bradford. Great big 240-pound muscle bound guard was secured to the wall with straps around his wrists and his ankles, a slave collar around his neck, being plowed by that spectacular 175-pound white boy. I was struggling to keep quiet from total astonishment, but I was also fucking turned on. Who in the hell wouldn't be turned on? Jesus Christ was it hot. Bradford being dominated and giving his ass to a white boy half his size? I would have never guessed. Angel was wearing a leather studded collar as well which didn't make any sense because he was doing the dominating, and generally only the slave wears a collar. But it sure as hell made him look hot. I love seeing a kid wearing a collar. It was completely quiet in the room except for the soft `ugh, ugh, ugh' sounds Bradford made as the kid slammed into his ass. Then I heard Angel whisper: "you mine you big cunt. Your nigger ass is mine." I was astounded. Not only domination, but racism as well. I felt sparks shoot through my cock, and I swear to god it grew another inch. There ain't nothing I like better than a young racist white boy who I can kick the shit out of and turn into a groveling slave. Oh, fuck yeah, my absolute favorite. Trying to get my emotions under control, I had to figure out how to handle this. My obvious first thought was to barge in on them, kick the shit out of the kid, and then fuck the hell out of him. And maybe fuck Bradford as well. My heart was beating fast and I was sweating, and my hard cock was killing me but I knew I had to handle this carefully. Obviously, Bradford had lied to me about everything, just as Fred had warned me about. I decided my best bet was to back off and see if I could make sense of what the hell was going on. So, very carefully, I closed the door and made my way back to my cell. I absolutely had to have that gorgeous kid, and I decided I was going to have Bradford too, but it was going to take some careful planning. But the real question was: what was Bradford up to? He said I was to take control of that kid and take two or three days to straighten him out. He was obviously lying about that, and everything else as well, because the conference room was not set up with bunks like he said it would be. So, what were my options? I wanted to discuss it with Jamal, but I didn't dare use the phone without Fred keeping watch. Lunch was already over so I couldn't talk to Omar and Jasen, and Bradford said he'd be by right after lunch. So, I was on my own. But hell, this is Davon White, Superstud. There ain't nothing that comes my way that I can't handle. So, I decided to take a `wait-and-see' attitude and just play along with Bradford and see if I could figure out what he was up to. It was obvious that I was not going to be allowed to straighten out that Angel kid. My best guess here was that Bradford was not offering the kid to me, but maybe just the opposite, giving me to the kid. I mean, what other possibilities were there? He's obviously a submissive who likes to be dominated by hunky white boys, or at least this one hunky white boy. This was all too strange, and things were moving too fast for me to make any sense of it. Was Angel in charge? Did he control Bradford? "Davon," Bradford said as he walked up to my cell. "You ready for some action? You ready to straighten that kid out?" "Yeah, I'm ready" I said returning his smile and just playing it all my ear. "Hot white boy ass really turns me on. And that `Angel' kid is hot. Doesn't he turn you on too?" "Hell yes, he does. He's a hot kid" he said as he entered the cell. "Sorry about this, Davon, but they're very picky about anyone in the youth wing, so I have to handcuff you." "You're kidding?" I said. "Since when?" So, this was his game plan. Get me under control from the get-go. "Since always" he said. "Sorry, it's a rule. I have to cuff you before you can go in there." I'd already made the decision to play along, but this was really going to put me at a disadvantage. I ain't no Houdini, so once the cuffs were on, they were going to stay on, so I was going to be completely under his control until he decided to remove them. This probably meant that the first person that was going to be fucked was me, not Angel or Bradford. So, do I play along, or do I just call it off? I had to make an instant decision. Did I want to continue with my frustration and boredom, or did I want to get involved in something exciting and who-knows, maybe dangerous? But shit, anybody fucks with Davon White gets fucked back in spades. Nobody, and I mean nobody puts anything over on Davon White and gets away with it. Never has, never will. It was obvious that I was going to get fucked, probably by the kid and maybe by Bradford, but hell, if I'm going to get fucked, I couldn't do better than a big black muscle hunk or a really hot white twink. Life would be boring if you don't occasionally take chances. Besides, I know me. Chances are, I'd figure out a way to get the best of them. I decided to go for it. "Well, okay, Bradford" I said. "If you absolutely have to." "Don't worry, Davon. I'll take them off as soon as we get there" he said. God damn liar and God damn racist too, I thought. I mean, he let that white punk call him a nigger and he was evidently delivering me, another nigger, for the kid to fuck. If there's anything more racist than a black racist, I don't know what it would be. Bradford cuffed my hands behind my back and led me out of my cell. Curiouser and curiouser, because he was going to have trouble fucking me with my hands cuffed back there. Besides, I was wearing my coveralls as well. What the fuck was he up to? So, if I thought I'd had enough surprises for one day I was only kidding myself. When Bradford opened the door to the conference room, I saw one single chair in the middle of the room and sitting on it was a giant. And, with a second look, it was Bradford. Fred told me Bradford's brother was the Deputy Warden and was a twin, but it hadn't really sunk in that they would be identical. The guy sitting there wearing only a pair of jockey shorts was much more muscular than Bradford. Hugely more muscular and even more defined. If I said Bradford was gorgeous, and I did, this guy was even more so. He was extremely handsome and also enormous. And surprise. On his knees between the big guy's legs was Angel, hands behind his back, sucking on the enormous piece of meat protruding from the guy's middle, barely covered by the shorts. The shorts were soaking wet so Angel must have been at it for a while, and now it was clear why Angel was wearing a slave collar. "Here he is, sir. Davon White." Bradford said as he pushed me into the room. Sir? Calling his twin brother sir? "So, I finally get to meet the muscle stud I've been lusting over for months. Shit, Bradford, he's even hotter than you said" the guy said with a chuckle. "Fucking delectable." He reached down and pushed Angel's head back away from his crotch, almost knocking the kid over backwards. But Angel immediately dove back in and continued working the giant bulge with his mouth, keeping his hands clasped behind his back. Then the guy did it again, pushing Angel's head back, but this time he gave him a slap across the face. That didn't faze Angel in the least because he gave the guy's hand a quick kiss and then dove back in and went back to sucking. Evidently this was a game they played: 'I'll see how difficult I can make it for you to suck me'. "So, you like my Angel?" he chuckled as he grabbed Angel's hair and jerked his head up. Angel's face was glistening with a layer of saliva, his hair was matted against his forehead, and he seemed to be rather bleary-eyed. "Please, Master" he whimpered softly as the big guy held him up by the hair. "Please, master." Master? Calling the guy master? "Angel loves his master's black dick, don't you Angel?" the guy said. Angel kept his hands clasped behind his back, but I could see that he was pulling against the big guy's hand, trying to get back on the dick. Angel whimpered: `yes, master, please, master." He was obviously on something, some drug, but even so, I was astonished at the worshipful look in his eyes. He was desperate to get back on the guy's dick. Then the guy spit on him, hitting him on the upper lip. "Angel loves anything he gets from his master, don't you pussycat?" Angel made a whining noise from the back of his throat and then scrunched up his face in pain, so I could tell the guy was pulling his hair hard, hurting him. "Don't you pussycat?" the guy asked with a laugh. Angel closed his eyes in pain, but he stuck out his tongue and licked the spit from his lip. Smiling broadly the guy slapped him again. Angel squealed for a second and then started kissing the guy's hand, over and over. "Thank you, master" he whimpered. "Thank you, master." The guy let go of his hair and in an instant Angel was back on the bulging jockey shorts. He kept whining as he sucked, and the big guy started petting his hair gently as if he were his pet poodle. Which he obviously was. Jesus fucking Christ. I'm a master and I've had many slaves, but I'd never seen anything quite like this. I was amazed, I was impressed, and I was envious as hell. None of my slaves had been quite so docile and groveling as Angel was right now. Bradford and I were just standing there watching what was obviously a show, being put on for our benefit. The guy looked over and nodded at Bradford, evidently giving him an okay. "This is Davon White, sir" Bradford said pushing me a step forward. "Davon, this is my brother, Rad, the Deputy Warden. You can call him Sir." "I'm going to give Angel to you, Davon" Rod said with a smile. "As you can see, he's an absolute jewel. He's yours if you want him. That is, if you don't mind my castoffs." I didn't have to think twice about what to call him. He was a spectacular hunk of muscle as well as an unbelievable slave master and I'd never been more impressed with anyone in my life. Without a doubt he deserved my respect. "Yes, sir" I said and gulped. "Yes, sir" I repeated. "So," Rad laughed. "Does that mean you want him?" Leaning down Rad whispered something in Angel's ear, and Angel started visibly shaking. Reaching up, Angle grabbed on to Rad's jockeys. As Rad raised up slightly, he slowly pulled them down over the massive thighs, allowing the enormous cock to pop out. And shit, the guy had to be at least as big as me. Ten inches or more. Angel just waited, staring at it from only inches away, actually quivering in excitement, and obviously waiting for some direction. Rad smiled at him for a moment as Angel waited, and then whispered something. Angel leaned forward and started giving soft worshipful kisses up and down the big pole. "Yes, sir" I stuttered, rather tongue tied. "Ahhh... well... ahhh... shit yes, sir." "He's already trained, as you can see. I've taken care of that so you can just enjoy his devotion. But he ain't free, Davon. You understand that? I'm gonna fuck you. Big dominant muscle stud like you, a total top, you are my perfect type. I'm gonna stick this big dick up that black chute of yours." "Ahhh... sir... ahhh..." I stuttered. "You ever get fucked, Davon?" "Ahhh... well. Ahhh... yeah. I mean, yes sir. Years ago." "Too bad" he chuckled. "I was hoping for a virgin. But that's okay, I don't mind seconds, and I bet you're tighter than hell." "Ahhh...sir..." I started to say. "Tell him, Brad" Rad ordered. Brad? Not Bradford? "Here's how it goes, Davon" Bradford said. "Sir is going to fuck you, with or without your cooperation, but he'd rather you cooperate. If you submit willingly, you get Angel transferred to your cell. Otherwise... Well, there isn't any otherwise. You're going to get fucked." "Cooperate?" I asked. "That means you climb on and do all the work. You put on your submissive hat, and you prove you can serve a true Alpha Male." "You see, Davon," Rad said, smiling at me and continuing to pet Angel's hair. "I got this fixation of having big dominant muscle studs screwing themselves on my dick. It's the ultimate in domination, it makes my prick go absolutely bonkers, and it really feeds my ego, my superiority." He said this matter-of-factly as a given, that he was emphatically transcendent, undeniably superior. I stood there, transfixed by his incredible physique, and had no doubts about his absolute superiority. He was a superman. "Brad's got a hot ass," he continued "and some of these kids are good fucks, but I have an obsession about muscle hunks, true Alpha's I can make into my pussy-boys." He laughed but I didn't because I was in shock. It was clear that this giant was planning to make me into his pussy-boy. I glanced over at Bradford but there was no reaction showing on his face. No embarrassment about Rad telling me he was getting screwed regularly. "Ah, Rad, ah Sir..." I started to say. "I'm going to fuck you, Davon" Rad said interrupting me. "And I plan to enjoy it. Maybe you can enjoy it too, or maybe not, but I'll tell you this, it's definitely in your best interest to make sure I enjoy it a lot. It's most definitely in your interest. As Deputy Warden I control your life and I can make things pretty uncomfortable for you." "I've been training Angel for months" he said "and he's not only a beautiful white boy who thinks he's a top but a real hellion who has to be knocked around. He's also a muscle hound with a sweet mouth, give him a little weed and he becomes completely docile and mindlessly obedient. He's yours if you want him. So, tell me how it's going to be." Decision time, but Bradford already made it clear I didn't have any choice. I was going to get fucked, period. I'd been lusting over Angel for ages now, and believe it or not, I was actually excited about getting fucked by this giant muscle man. Yeah, me. Davon White. I was excited. I knew it would hurt, but I'm a bodybuilder and a stud; I know what pain is all about. But, also, Rad was a god. I could see it and I heard him say it, and I had no doubts it was true. He was a superior male creature, and a herculean Alpha, and in truth I wondered what it would be like to be under his control. Although I'd only known him for less than ten minutes, I already respected him more than anyone I'd ever met in my entire life. This guy was deserving of respect, worshipful respect, and yes, I was willing to become his submissive, and if he wanted me to worship him, I'd damn well worship him. "Well" he asked? "Okay. Yes, sir" I said. Obviously, I didn't have any choice, but I suppose it was nice of him to let me pretend that I did. But I was looking forward to this. "Get the cuffs off him and get the mat" Rad said. Bradford quickly removed the cuffs and then pulled a big mat down that was hanging on the wall. Not a full-sized wrestling mat, but it must have been a good eight feet square. There was no hesitation on my part as I slipped out of my coveralls, tank top and shorts. My cock was like a steel rod, my heart was beating fast and I was nervous and anxious about being dominated by Rad. "Lots of saliva, pussycat. Get it wet" Rad said to Angel as he stood up and pulled his jockey shorts down and off. "Do what you need to do, Davon" he said to me. "You've got two minutes." Oh, shit. I spit into my hand and reached around to my ass and rubbed it in my crack. Spitting again and again I stuck a finger into my little pucker. Shit, he was going to find me tighter than a drum. Glancing over at what Angel was doing with that giant dick, I got chills up my spine trying to imagine how I was going to get that monster up my butt. I knew it was going to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Pushing Angel away and getting a groan of disappointment from him, Rad jerked his giant prick a couple times and just looked at me as I was desperately forcing two fingers into my tight hole. "I'm not only going to fuck you, Davon, but I'm going to own you. That's all part of the deal. Got that?" "Yes, Sir" I said. "Make that master." "Yes, master" I said. This was my game. I knew all about how a master is treated. "Get on your belly" he ordered as he continued playing with his cock, keeping it hard. I stretched out flat on the floor. "Crawl over here." I did as I was told dragging myself across the floor. "Kiss" he said. I said he was deserving of my respect, and I'd already accepted him as my master, so if he wanted me to worship him, I'd worship him. I started kissing his feet. Think about this. I mean really think about this. Davon White kissing a guy's feet. Davon White, the most stunning muscular African-American around, crawling and groveling at the feet of another guy. Not to be believed, heh? But of course, this was not just any guy. This was a true dominant, a dominant's dominant, a true demigod. I envied him. I was going to worship him. Reaching down and grabbing me by the hair, he pulled my head up and spit in my face, hitting me right between the eyes. "You say, thank you" he said giving me a big smile. "Thank you, master" I said as I felt a surge of excitement shoot from my cock to my brain and back again, and my cock was throbbing. I'd had dozens of submissives but had never, ever, been one myself. In fact, it had never occurred to me that I might want to be one. But now, being a slave to this demanding master, this omnipotent creature, was perhaps the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me. "Crawl over here" he said as he walked over to the mat and lay down. I crawled over to him. "You may kiss it" he said. I raised my head and gave his enormous wanger a kiss. God damn, I didn't know how I was going to get that monster into my ass. "Climb on, facing me" he said. Climbing over him and straddling him on my knees I looked down at him. He was handsome in a very masculine way, just like his twin, Bradford. I haven't said much about Rad's body because I've been so enthralled over the events as they have unfolded, but now, as he put his hands behind his head, I took a good measure. He wasn't really flexing his arms, but his biceps were bulging magnificently anyway. I wanted to kiss them and lick them and would at my first opportunity. And his chest; superb bulging pectoral muscles of unbelievable size. Simply astonishing. You know how much I'm into muscle worship, so I hoped Rad would allow me at some point to really give his muscles the attention they deserved. He was absolutely dazzling. A totally awesome African-American male animal. I reached behind me and took hold of his cock. Jesus, was it huge. Adjusting the aim, I lined it up with my ass hole. I knew it was going to hurt, but this is Davon White. Pain is nothing to me; I crave pain. I'm a god damn demigod myself, so there ain't no pain that I can't handle. I gradually lowered myself on the enormous pole, forcing my ass to begin to stretch like it had never been stretched before. I yelled. "Aaaaaaaaa." Partly from the pain but partly from the enthusiasm of actually doing this. And doing it for my new Master. He said he wanted to enjoy it, so I was damn well going to make sure he did. Every part of my body is solid muscle including my ass, so I was having trouble getting Rad's monster in there. I put on some pressure internally, as if I was taking a shit because I knew this would help, and it seemed to open up a little more as I continued to force myself down on the monster. "Oooooo" I groaned. Hell yes, it hurt, it hurt like crazy, but I was in ecstasy. Totally caught up in being a submissive for the first time in my life, and giving my all to a gorgeous, utterly spectacular African-American god. The pain was so intense that I kept my eyes clamped closed until I finally hit bottom. As I opened my eyes, I saw that he was smiling brightly. "Oh shit, baby. My pussy boy" he laughed. "I love that look of pain on your face. Giving your all for your man. That's it baby, make me feel good." Now, very slowly I pulled up and then pushed back down. Not really humping him yet, but just trying to get the damn thing loosened up in my ass. The pain was intense and didn't seem to be letting up at all as I pulled up again. "Please, Master, may I take it out" I asked because the pain simply wasn't diminishing. "Please." "Yes" he answered, evidently recognizing the look of torment on my face. Pulling up and completely off him and panting wildly, I spit in my hand and rubbed it up and down his cock. Then spitting again, a really big wad, I pushed it into my crack and pushed two fingers back into my hole. "Okay, Master. Sorry" I said as I finger fucked my hole a few times. After wiping the sweat out of my eyes, I grabbed his cock and took aim again. He was still smiling brightly, enjoying my pain and my difficulties as I pressed down once more, forcing the monster back into my tight ass hole. Rad reached up and slapped me, and it really stung. My cock gave a surge. "Shi-i-i-i-ttt" I screamed, not from the slap but from emotion, from passion. I know that my pain is his pleasure, and the more pain, the more pleasure, but to be on the receiving end of this violence is incredibly hot and mind-blowing. Hell, I'd played this game hundreds of times myself with my own slave boys, slapping them around to increase my pleasure. A true dominant using and abusing his chattel at will for his own gratification. There ain't nothing quite like it. Now I really pushed, forcing his massive cock up my butt. humping up and down on his giant dick. "You forgot to thank me" he said as he slapped me again, hard, almost knocking me over. And my cock exploded. My first shot went clear over his head and my second one damn near reached his chin. "Ohhh Fuuuccck" I screamed as I fired shot after shot onto his chest and stomach. I was momentarily oblivious to what was happening other than my exploding cock, but Rad was patient and just waited. It was only after my final shot that I felt the pain from his slap. Jesus, he was rough. "You make a beautiful submissive" he said as I finally finished shooting my cum onto him. "A perfect pussy for my cock. Now, get back to work." Obviously, I was so involved in my own ejaculation that I hadn't started humping. In fact, his cock wasn't all the way in me yet. The pain in my ass had lessened now, less than excruciating anyway, and I was determined to make this good for Rad, so I pushed hard, sinking down all the way. He hit me across the face again and got a yelp from me this time. "Yeeaaoo." My face was definitely going to be red for the rest of the week. "You still didn't say thank you" he said calmly. My cock hadn't gone soft at all after my ejaculation, and now I felt a surge shoot through it again. God, I loved being dominated by this magnificent creature. This glorious man who knew exactly what it meant to be a severe demanding Master. A man to be totally worshiped. "Thank you, Master" I gasped as I slammed down on his cock as hard as I could. "Thank you, Master" I repeated as I lifted and slammed down on him again. And again. And then again. No pain. Only euphoria. "Shhhiiittt" he screamed as his whole body shuddered, almost tossing me off as he started to blow. Just as I am when I'm in the throes of an ejaculation, he was totally out of control, and he grabbed my hair, damn near pulling it out by the roots, and slammed his fist into my chest. I let out a yell but was drowned out by his yell. "Shhhiiittt" he roared again, as he rammed his crotch up against me several times, lifting my 263 pounds up in the air as he fired over and over into my ass. I reached down and jerked my cock three times and started shooting again. Jesus. Have you ever been so excited that you ejaculated twice within five minutes? Well, neither have I. I yelled in ecstasy again as I shot only about three times onto his rippling abs. Maybe it wasn't a real ejaculation but just a hangover from the previous one, but I shot so hard it almost hurt. Was it pain or pleasure? My chest hurt and tears were dripping down my cheeks because he had really slugged me, but my ejaculation had been incredibly intense. "Oh shit, Rad" I gasped. "That might have been the best ejaculation I've ever had. The two best ejaculations I've ever had" I said as I gasped for breath. "Shit." "Oh, baby. I think I can say the same" Rad said as he fought for breath. "You are one hot fucking son-of-a-bitch. A real pussy boy for my prick." He still had a big grin on his face. I don't think that grin had stopped for a single second the whole time I'd been in the room. "You're my pussy, Davon. Say it" he ordered "I'm your pussy, Rad" I answered, smiling back at him. "Okay, get off and clean up this mess you made" he said. I raised up slowly allowing his big dong to gently slip out of my ass. I felt empty once it slipped completely out, a very strange hollow feeling in my gut, from somebody who has almost never been fucked. Of course, my ass hurt and I probably was going to be sore for a couple days, my cheeks hurt and I was probably going to have bruises, and my chest ached and I know it was going to be bruised. But I was satisfied. I'd just serviced, and serviced successfully, the hottest, butchest, most amazing stud I'd ever seen. And as a hot Master myself, I'm very well aware that it takes a lot of pain to completely satisfy a demanding Master like Rad. As I got off, Rad grabbed me by the hair and gave me one final hard slap to the face. I yelped, (`yeeaaoh') and more tears sprung from my eyes. Shit, he was rough. "Pussy boy" he said, as he grinned at me and then pulled me down to his massive chest. "Thank you, Master" I murmured as I slurped up all the cum I'd spurted onto him. As always, your comments are very important to me. If you liked my story please drop a line and let me know. gladiatorkid@hotmail.com ddcolwell@live.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/davon-white-superstud/davon-white-superstud-5

Date: Sun, 9 Jun 2024 12:07:14 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter 5 This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black muscleman with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with consensual and nonconsensual sex between characters. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Five Ralph glanced up with a surprised look on his face as I entered his office and closed the door. "What? Ahhh... Davon?" "You sent for me, Mr. Deputy Warden, Sir? Huh?" I said with a big grin on my face. "You want to see me, Boss man?" "Ahhh... Davon" he said as he stood up behind his desk looking totally confused. "I didn't... Ahhh... I... " "No? You didn't call for me? You didn't want to see your favorite muscle stud?" Still grinning brightly, I reached behind me, locked the door, kicked off my shoes and then unzipped my coveralls. Shrugging them off and letting them fall to the floor I stepped out of them. No jockstrap this time. Just Davon White, Superstud in all his naked muscular glory. Just for good measure I flexed my massive biceps to remind him of my incredible strength. "Ahhh... Davon, please. You can't... Ahhh... you can't come... you can't just walk in here like this." "I can't? Well, it seems that I'm already here, babe. I musta misunderstood the message, but I'm here now" I said as I started to walk around his desk. "We might as well take advantage of it." I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up to my face, lifting him up on his tiptoes. "I can think of a couple things we can do while I'm here." "Uuuuggg" he choked out as he reached up and tried to pull my hands away. "Get your fuckin hands down before I break `em off" I growled at him and he instantly dropped his arms to his side as I glared at him from only inches away. "You remember the other day when you kissed my ass, Ralph? Remember that?" He didn't answer until I gave him a good shake. "Remember?" "Ahhh... yes" he murmured. "Well, I kind of liked it. In fact, I liked it better than your shitty blowjobs. I thought maybe we could do it again, give you some practice. And, besides, I've got to talk to you. Maybe you can get in some practice while I talk. Wha'da'ya think? Huh?" "Ahhh... Davon. Please" he stuttered. "Hey, I know you're partial to your favorite black sweetheart down here" I said as I made my mostly hard dick bounce up and down a couple times for emphasis. "But there's lots of parts of my body you ain't sucked on yet. And we need to get started." Still holding him up on his tip toes, I backed around the desk pulling him along with me to the middle of the floor. "Get on your knees, fuck boy" I said softly as I let go of him. "Ahhh... Davon. I..." I slapped him, hard. (wack) The first time I'd ever hit him. That got a yelp out of him and totally shocked him. He knew I had him under my thumb, but somehow, he never expected me to hit him. "I said, get on your knees, fuck boy." His face was red, he was breathing hard and fast and sweat was beading on his forehead. He still hesitated a moment longer as I just glared at him. Then, finally, he dropped to his knees before me. "Kiss my dick, fuck boy" I said softly. "Just the tip. Kiss it." Hell, he'd already given me two blow jobs, so he knew he was under my control, so it wasn't much of a stretch for him to obey me now, so after a slight hesitation, he leaned in and gave my prick a kiss. "Now thank me." "Huh?" "Thank me. There's millions of guys out there who want to kiss my dick, but I'm letting you do it. So thank me." "Ahhh... Davon..." I slapped him again, on the other cheek. (wack) I got a screech out of him this time. "Thank me, you little halfwit before I kick your ass. THANK ME." "Ahhh... okay... ahhh... Davon. Ahhh... thank you." "Kiss it again." He leaned forward and gave my prick another kiss. I just stared down at him. "Ahhh... ahhh... thank you" he finally said softly. "For what?" "Ahhh... what?" "Thank me for what? Say it." "Ahhh... thank you... ahhh... thank you for letting me kiss your dick?" Grabbing him by the hair, I pulled him in within just inches from my crotch. "See them big beautiful balls, Ralph? Hmmm? See those succulent black baby makers? Suck on `em, Ralph." I pressed his face into my crotch, so my ten-inch wanger slapped into his face. "Open your mouth and suck on `em, fuck boy. Get busy." Giving into the inevitable Ralph started licking my balls. "Now I gotta talk to you, Ralph. You just concentrate on my balls while I talk. Get that tongue moving, and really worship those babies. "Your wife called yesterday about a new Mercedes. I know the old one is a year old now, but don't you think she's getting just a little bit greedy?" Ralph started to pull back, so I gave him a good swat on the back of the head. "You keep your god damn mouth on my balls, and I'd better hear some slurping sounds from down there pretty damn quick. Get `em wet and suck on `em." He now started doing better, using more saliva and making sucking sounds as he went at it. "You see, I don't know if I'm getting my money's worth here, Ralph?" I said patiently. "I mean, a new Mercedes now, a little sports car for your wife's stepson a couple weeks ago, and a new living room suite a few months ago. We're supposed to have a deal here, Ralph. I give you something, you give me something. That's the way it works." The sucking sounds continued from my crotch. "That's it, baby. Keep slurping on my muscle nuts. Make love to `em, baby." As much as I loved feeling Ralph's mouth on my balls, I loved every bit as much looking down and watching my enormous prick bobbing around over his face. It gives me incredible feelings of power and superiority. "So, listen, Ralph, it seems like I'm doing most of the giving and you're doing most of the taking. I don't think I'm getting a fair shake here anymore, Ralph. Something's got to be done." Grabbing a hand full of hair, I pulled him back from my crotch. "What do you think I should do, Ralph? Any ideas?" "Please, Davon" he pleaded. "Please. You agreed to those things. You told Marge she could have a new car. She said so." "Yeah, I agreed" I said. "After she called me first. But, hey, I'm an easy-going guy. I'll give her a new car. But now, you've got to give me something in return. What's it going to be? Huh?" "Please, Davon. Please" Ralph said, visibly shaking with fear now. "I do everything for you. Anytime you ask for something I take care of it, Davon. You know that. I'm always here for you." "Yeah, but I don't ask for much, and your wife seems to ask for a lot. You owe me, Ralph. How would you like to become my fuck boy? How does that sound?" "Davon, no, please no" he was now actually whimpering. I was still holding his head back by the hair, but only so he had to look up at me. "Please, Davon. Please. I'm straight. Don't make me do this. Don't. Please don't." "Actually, Ralph, you're one lousy cocksucker. I get better blowjobs from my boys half a dozen times a day. But I might consider taking your ass." I chuckled as I said this because I knew he'd freak out. And I wasn't wrong. "No, Davon. No. No. No. Not that" he actually yelled. "Hey, baby. Easy does it. Go easy. I'm just thinking about it. Calm down." "No, Davon. You can't. I'll quit my job first." "You be careful, Ralph" I said tightening my grip on his hair. "Nobody says no to me. Nobody. Particularly a wimpy piece of shit like you. You just remember I own you, baby. You don't do nothing without my okay. Got it? You keep in mind that Raylon can find you no matter where you are. Now, maybe I'll fuck your ass, and maybe I won't. What else you got to offer?" "Just tell me what you want, Davon. Anything. Whatever you want. Please. But don't fuck me. I beg you, Davon. Please don't fuck me. I'll do anything else." This really got a chuckle out of me. I mean he really sounded desperate and I could see his eyes were tearing and he was terrified. I loved it. The only thing more fun than humiliating this little twerp was terrifying him. "Okay, I did have a few things in mind so maybe I won't make you my fuck boy. Not for now at least." "Okay, Davon. Just tell me. I'll take care of it." "First of all, my cock is kinda popular with some of your staff, but I hate fucking in a closet. You got a nice sofa here in your office, so I'm going to start doing my fucking in here. I'll give you a call when I need it and you can clear out for an hour or so. It'll only be maybe once a week." "Ahhh... Davon..." "Shut up" I said. "Second of all, your office is a hell of a lot nicer than my cell with that sofa and the carpet and all so I'm going to fuck my boys in here occasionally, just for variety. Only once a week or so. Might as well fuck in comfort, heh? You won't even have to leave the room because I don't mind an audience, and besides, you'll get quite an education on how a real man fucks. I may even have you participate. We'll see." "Davon, Davon. Wait as second. Please" Ralph pleaded. "How can I do this? What about Carrina, my secretary?" "What the hell you got her outside your door for anyway? Move her the hell somewhere else. Do I have to do all your' thinking for you?" This kind of attitude from one of my lackey's was as annoying as hell. I didn't give a fuck how he handled it, I just wanted it done. "Install a back door to your god damn office for all I care. Just make it happen." "Okay, Davon. Ahhh... I'll... I'll..." "Third of all, I hear Craig got transferred out of my cell block" I said. I was still holding on to Ralph's hair, holding his head back so he was looking straight up at me as I glared down at him. "Ahhh... who? Craig? The guard?" "Yes, the god damn guard you idiot." I looked at him like he was the stupidest person on earth. "Transfer him back." "Ahhh... Craig? The guard Craig? Ahhh... Davon, he asked to be transferred to building three." "I don't give a fuck what he asked" I growled at him. "I said get him the hell back." "Davon, I can't do that." Seeing the glare on my face and feeling my grip on his hair tighten, he immediately realized the mistake he'd made and froze in horror. "Did-you-say-no-to-me?" I asked slowly with extreme venom. "Did I hear you say no?" Wait, wait" he said as he put up his hands expecting me to slug him. "Wait, Davon. Wait. I mean... please. I mean... Davon. Please. He asked to be transferred and I approved it. How could I transfer him back?" "I don't give a fuck how you do it, you dumb shit" I snapped at him. "Just do it. He works for you, so you damn well transfer him back to my block." "Ahhh... Davon..." "Shut the fuck up." Ralph gulped aloud knowing that he was lucky to have avoided a beating by saying no to me. I'd only hit him once, but he was aware I'd have no qualms about hitting him again. As well as the tears, sweat was now dripping down his face. "And fourth of all, Ralph, you don't call me Davon anymore. You're going to call me master, like my boys do. I kinda like the idea of the Deputy Warden calling me master. Don't you? Hmmm? Does that sound good to you? Let's start right now. Call me master." "Ahhh... Davon. What? Ahhh..." "DO IT" I growled at him. "Ahhh... master?" he mumbled. "Again." "Master." "Again, with feeling." "Master." "That makes you my slave, doesn't it, Ralph? You want to be Davon's slave? Hmmm?" And I don't know if it was the shock or if he was crying but more tears were now streaming down his cheeks. "Please, Davon. Don't do this, please." "Hey, baby. Relax. The world ain't coming to an end." I realized that I may have been pushing him a little too hard, forcing him into sensory overload, more than he could handle right now. I decided to pull back just a bit. "You're just going to be good to me, that's all. I'm not going to fuck you or anything. Okay?" He just whimpered softly, trying to get his emotions under control. "We're just having a friendly little talk here, babe. Just you and me. Hell, I'm enjoying it. I like talking to you. And being a slave ain't no big deal, babe. I'll show you how it works. You just got to be respectful to me and do what I tell you, no different from right now. You just gotta remember Ralph, this is Davon White we're talking about here and being the slave to the hunkiest black muscle stud on the planet ain't all bad. "And besides, you knew from the first time you ever saw me that I was a dominant, a master. Didn't you? You don't remember when I winked at you? My very first day here? Remember? Huh?" "Ahhh... Davon..." he mumbled, and I saw the recognition in his eyes. He remembered alright. "Oh, fuck yeah you remember" I said with a laugh. "You turned red as a beet when I winked at you. Big dominant muscle stud like me, you were totally intimidated by my hot body on day one. When I walked by in handcuffs, I thought you were cute as a button and even then, I planned on seeing what you'd look like with my big black dick in your face. And let me tell you, babe, Davon White can tell at a glance what it will take to turn a guy into a cocksucker, and you went to the top of my `to do' list. So now you're going to be Davon's slave. For a servile little bottom boy like you that's a logical step. Hell, who knows, you're probably going to like it." You think I don't know how to manipulate the flunkies around me? I mean, I had Ralph pegged from the first moment I saw him as a submissive cocksucker, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he became MY submissive cocksucker. "Okay, so let's get started. What do you think a slave does to honor his master? Hmmm?" "Ahhh... wha... ahhh... I don't..." "A slave kisses his master's feet, babe. A slave will do anything to show respect for his master. Get down there and kiss my feet." He was still looking me in the eye so he knew I was serious, but even so, he couldn't believe what I was telling him. Putting my hand behind his head I pushed him down to my feet. "Kiss `em, slave boy. Kiss your master's feet." Obviously knowing he had no other choice with me holding him down there; he gave each of my feet a kiss. "That wasn't so bad now was it, babe?' I laughed. "Feels right doesn't it? Feels like you belong down there at your master's feet doesn't it? Kissing Davon White's feet is pretty damn hot, heh? Oh, yeah, fucking hot." "Okay, slave boy, that's something we'll work on later." I grinned down at him. "We'll turn you into a real foot slave. "Now, get back up here and kiss my ass." He rose back up and looked up at me with a shocked look, but also seemingly reconciled to his fate. He'd kissed my ass once before, and I'd already told him he was going to do it again, so he knew he had no choice. I didn't move, and he seemed to be confused about what to do. "I said, kiss my ass, slave boy." He hesitated for another moment before he finally came to the realization of what I expected him to do. With a look of resignation, he crawled around behind me on his hands and knees as I just stood there not moving and gave each of my ass cheeks a kiss. "Nice start, babe. But let me show you how it's done." Taking him by the hair I led him over to the sofa forcing him to crawl. Grabbing him under the arms, I flipped him around and set him on the sofa and then stepped up on the cushions straddling him. Pushing his head back against the cushion I pressed my crotch into his face. "Get your fuckin hands down" I growled at him and he dropped them to his sides. Then, hands on hips, I gently moved from side to side and just enjoyed watching my big pecker as it bounced back and forth across his nose and face. It was beautiful. Then I turned around. I just stayed there for like ten or fifteen seconds letting him get a good look at my hunky black tush and then leaned back slowly pushing it into his face. "Lick it, baby. Lick your master's black ass." I knew at this point that we were well past any possible resistance on his part, so I wasn't surprised when he stuck out his tongue and started licking. "That's it, baby. Stick your nose in there and lick that sweaty hole." I pushed back slightly forcing his nose into my crack. "Oh yeah, baby. I like that. Now, start sucking it. Get some juices flowing and suck my ass hole. Make me feel good babe." And, oh man, what a fucking feeling. This lily-white Deputy Warden, my newest slave, sucking up a storm on my black muscle ass. "Yeah, that's it. Suck it and wiggle your tongue a little. Oh yeah." I had barely touched my dick through all this, only just enough to keep it hard, but now it was throbbing. Let me tell you, getting your ass sucked is special, but having the Deputy Warden's face jammed up your chute makes it even more special, and I was already near the point of no return. So, I grabbed the big shaft and started jerking it like crazy, and in thirty seconds I was ready. Quickly turning around, I grabbed his hair so he couldn't get away, took aim with my pulsating pecker and started blasting my jism into his face. Shit, there ain't nothing like shooting your wad into the face of your very own Deputy Warden in your very own prison. I was jerking my hot pecker and howling in pleasure as I held tight to his hair and covered him with my cum. "Oh, fuck yeah" I laughed in delight as I finished ejaculating. "Oh yeah, Ralph, my new slave boy. That was terrific. You suck ass like nobody's business." As I began to calm down, I grabbed my cock and smeared my jism all over his face, even pressing it between his lips. He just lay there taking it and I couldn't help but laugh aloud. "Oh, baby. You are so fuckin beautiful with my shit all over your face. Fuckin beautiful." He mumbled something I didn't catch because I think he was trying to keep from getting my cum in his mouth. He looked like he was going to throw up. "Lick your lips for me, baby. Lick your master's delicious cum off your lips." When he didn't move immediately, I pinched one of his ears. He yelped and then licked his lips. "What does a slave do for his master now, babe? Tell me what a slave would do." "Ahhh..." he mumbled and finally opened his eyes and looked up at me. "Ahhh... wha...?" "He says thank you, babe. A slave thanks his master for allowing him to serve. You got to appreciate anything your master gives you, babe. So, thank me." "Ahhh... ahhh... Davon. Ahhh... thank you" he whispered softly. "Say it again, louder, babe, and call me master" I ordered him as I looked down at him with a huge grin on my face. "Thank you, master." "Oh, shit, you're good. Good, slave boy" I said giving him a smile of satisfaction as I gently fluffed his hair. "Now clean me up. I got cum all over my crotch. Lick it up." Now, how many times can a guy be shocked? He did look shocked, again. The last time he blew me he had spit out my cum, but I wasn't going to let him get away with that again. "I said, lick it up." He made a face of fear or disgust or something, but he started licking up and down my still hard dick. I let him go over it and over it and over it as he licked, just enjoying watching my big black monster flopping around and around in his lily-white face, and then I made him suck the cum out of my crotch hairs for good measure. Now, let me tell you, was this the greatest, most exciting event of my young life? You damn well know it was. Absolutely, fabulously, spectacularly wonderful. Dominating and humiliating and totally terrorizing the god damn Deputy Warden of my prison and turning him into my own personal cock slave. It just doesn't get any better than this. ---------- After I finished my shit and wiped my ass good with toilet paper, I turned my back to Corey who was on his knees in front of me. He carefully washed out my crack with the wet washcloth he was holding and then stuck his nose in there and gave my hole a quick lick and a kiss. I turned back around and gave him a smile. "Thank you, master" he said softly. "Thank you for letting me serve you." I didn't say anything, but I gave his hair a friendly tussle and then put my hand in front of his face allowing him to kiss it, which he did. You think this is too much? What the hell do you think a slave is for? You train him to be prepared to do anything and everything and do it with enthusiasm because that's what his master wants. No limits to his master's desires. I don't make him clean out the toilet with his tongue, but he would do it if I told him to and would thank me for being allowed to do it. A slave is a slave and he is always more than willing to perform any duty his master asks of him. Besides, there ain't much to do in prison, so it's important to remind a slave on a regular basis of his menial position. If they have no duties to perform, they tend to get lazy and forget what low-grade sleazy little punks they were before their Master trained them to serve. "Okay, Jackie. What is it? What's going on?" Jackie had been standing outside the bars for a couple minutes while I was finishing taking my shit. She knew me well enough to know I wouldn't acknowledge her until I was finished, so she just waited. "Ralph asked me to come down and..." "To tell me he transferred you to my cell block" I said interrupting her. "I figured that out all by myself." "Ahhh... right. You're right" she said with a giggle. "I got transferred. I don't suppose you had anything to do with that, did you?" Then she giggled some more. Still completely naked I walked up to the bars. "Hey, sweetheart. You know I couldn't get along without you. Neither could my pistol here" I said grabbing my prick and waggling it at her. "Here, get a feel." "Oh, Davon. You're too much." "Come on, come on, come on. Get a feel. It'll bring back wonderful memories." I pressed my crotch up against the bars and she took a hold of my prick. Hell, ain't no way Jackie can resist Davon White's big schlong. "Ohhhhh yeah" she murmured. "Thank you for getting me back, Davon. I've missed you." "I've missed you too, honey. But I'll bet you've missed my prick even more" I said. "Oh, Davon. Davon. You are just too much." she swooned as my prick started to grow from her manipulations. "But I've really missed you." "We're back on track now, honey. You and me and my little beauty down here gonna get together real soon. Real soon." As I turned back to get dressed, she held on to my prick. "Ahhh... one other thing, Davon. Ralph said I was to tell you that Craig was back here as well. He said you'd want to know that." "Okay, Jackie, thanks." I I grabbed her hand and had to physically pull it away from my almost fully hard dick. "See you later" I said as I turned away. "Okay, Davon. I'll be around." Corey and Kiante were already dressed and ready and while Corey was holding my jumpsuit at the ready, Kiante was on his knees with my shoes and socks, so it was only seconds later that I was dressed and ready for the buzzer for breakfast. ------------ "Green shorts and green shirt today, Corey" I said as he came back into the cell after breakfast. Both boys kicked off their shoes, unzipped their coveralls and pulled them off. "Yes, master" Corey said as he scurried over to my chest and got the clothes out and then got on his knees in front of me. Kiante got down and removed my shoes and then stood and unzipped my coveralls, pulling them off my shoulders and down so I could step out of them. All three of us were naked, my two well-built handsome slave boys and their massively muscled master. Kiante got back on his knees and I just stood there for a moment letting them to look up at me and admire my incredible muscled body. I gave them a smile and watched their looks of awe as I gave them a quick double bicep pose. Hey, ain't no doubt I'm the most gorgeous muscle stud these kids have ever seen, and although I rule them through fear, they damn well know and appreciate that I'm a god and how privileged they are to be allowed to serve me. Corey kissed each of my feet and held the shorts for me to step into. This is my ritual every morning. It's like performing in a play. They know their parts and if they perform them perfectly there will be no punishment. And they put their hearts and souls into whatever it takes to avoid that punishment. And understand, I am a strict disciplinarian and I demand absolute obedience and complete devotion from them every moment of the day. They grovel before me because they fear me, but they also know a demigod like me deserves their worship. Yeah, they know that. I may be strict, but they expect that from a god, and I am a god to them. They know that it's an honor to serve me. Call `em slaves or call `em fuck boys, take your pick. Actually, you need both words to describe them because being a slave does not necessarily mean you get fucked and getting fucked does not necessarily make you a slave. I guess my new word is fuck-slave. But even that doesn't completely cover it because my boys worship me and my body. They worship me, their master, and every inch of my body and they're ready and anxious to do it twenty-four hours a day. "Put those shorts down, Corey. Play with my cock with your nose for me, baby. I like watching it flop around in that pretty face of yours." Corey pushed his face into my crotch. "Oh yeah, that's nice." "Thank you, master." "You want to kiss your master's balls, baby? Hmm?" "Yes, master. Please, master." "Go to it. Keep that nose going but give those beautiful chocolate balls some soft kisses. Treat `em like candy." "Thank you, master" he replied as he started covering my balls with soft kisses. "That's nice" I said. "Thank you, master" Corey replied. "That's all?" I asked. "Thank you? Just thank you?" This was said as kind of a joke, not completely serious, but it never hurts to emphasize a master's power over a slave. "Ahhh... thank you, master, for honoring me. Thank you. Thank you, master, for allowing me to kiss your balls." "Yeah, that's the way. I like that" I said with a laugh. Corey might think I'm just playing with him, which I am, but he knows the least infraction causes punishment, so he can't take the chance and must treat it seriously. "Thank you for the honor, master" he mumbles through the kisses. "That's the way, babe, honor your master with those pretty lips." "Thank you, master." "Okay, move over. Let Kiante in there" I said. "Both of you on my balls. Worship those babies. Get `em wet and start suckin on `em." I'm constantly horny and can cum up to eight or ten times a day, but many times like now, I start out by being more into reminding my boys of my power over them, than I am into sexual desire. But, of course, the sexual desire quickly takes precedence because forcing them to satisfy me is very exciting and is one hell of a turn on. "Oh yeah, babies, suck on those balls. Worship your master's cojones" I said as Kiante joined Corey by sticking his face in my crotch. I spread my legs wide giving them room as they pushed their heads together while they sucked and kissed my balls. I just let them go for a few minutes enjoying their gentle worship and watching my growing cock bobbing back and forth between their faces. "Okay, now my cock" I said. "Just kisses. Sweet little boy kisses." I stood up with my big ten-inch dong sticking out in front of me, giving them easy access to it, and they were on it immediately. Two beautiful boys, one brown with black hair and one white with blond hair, gently lavishing my pecker with impassioned kisses. Totally subservient and obsequious to their master, these two fawning slave boys giving their all to glorify me exactly as they have been trained. Not a single thought in their heads except giving total adoration to their Lord and master. "Oh, yeah, boys. Worship that gorgeous black pecker." Let me tell you, training slaves can be a pain in the ass, but once you get them to the point of perfect obedience and worshipful reverence like these boys, it is heaven on earth. Two beautiful submissive slave boys accepting of any form of humiliation and degradation from their master with their entire existence centered on my pleasure, and only my pleasure. "That's it, slave boys. That's it. Worship your master's cock." Probably my favorite activity, two boys on their knees before me, worshiping my big fat dick. The only thing missing was mirrors on the wall so I could see it from all angles, because the fact is, I loved seeing it almost as much as I loved feeling it. I just let them go at it for a while, loving every minute of it. Just kisses. No sucking and no licking, but just soft wet smooches. Oh yeah, I loved this. If I hadn't stopped them, I know I could have shot my load after a while just from the feel of their lips. Kiante was the more experienced cocksucker, but Corey was getting there and needed the practice, so I pushed Kiante away, grabbed a handful of Corey's hair and gently pulled him to his feet. Giving him a friendly slap on the ass I pushed him over to the table. Then lifting him, I lay him on the table on his back with his head hanging off the end. This is my favorite position for face fucking because I have a direct passage from a slave's mouth into his throat. Pushing my cock into his face, I moved my hips back and forth a few times smearing my pre-cum all over him. "Okay, baby, you ready? Huh? You ready for your master's cock?" "Yes, master" Corey answered, his voice quivering in fear. He knew what was coming, and from experience he knew I wasn't going to be easy to take me. "Ask me nicely" I said. "Please, master, let me suck your cock": he answered. "No. I'm going to fuck your face. That's different." "Please, master, let me... ahhh. Please, Master, fuck my face." "Good, boy" I said with a smile as I put my prick against Corey's lips and entered his beautiful wet hole. I pushed in only up to his throat. He was improving because he didn't choke at all. Pulling back, I started fucking him gently with just four or five inches of my cock. "Suck it, baby. Suction, lots of suction." Corey started sucking up a storm as I gently fucked him for a couple minutes. I had already deep throated Corey half a dozen times, but he wasn't completely comfortable with it yet, but practice makes perfect, so I stopped fucking and slowly but surely pushed my cock against the back of his throat and then kept on pushing until it went deep into his gullet and my balls were ground tightly against his nose. Then, just as slowly I pulled back out. "Damn, baby. You're doing good" I said cheerfully. The tight feeling felt fabulous against my cock but watching my ten-inch monster leisurely disappearing into his face was even better. "Oh yeah, baby" I swooned as I pushed deep into his throat again, forcing my cock to stretch the tight hole until my crotch was pressed in tight against his face. There was a steady moan coming from deep inside him, but he still hadn't choked. As I pulled out, he coughed just once and took a deep gasping breath, so I slid back in again and pushed hard, trying to get in even deeper. When it was in all the way, I jacked my crotch a couple times and twisted my hips, grinding into his face, getting the most exquisite feelings of tight boy throat before pulling back again. This time he started choking and then gasping for breath, so I pulled completely out and just rested my balls against his face for a few seconds, giving him a chance to recover. "Getting better, baby" I said as I reached down and gave him a few friendly slaps to the cheek. "But I don't want you choking. You can control it if you try. Hear me?" "Yes, master" he gasped. I put my hand to his neck this time as I entered him and could feel my cock as it bulldozed its' way into his throat, pushing all the way until my balls were again mashed tight against his nose. I held it there this time for maybe twenty seconds or so, grinding my crotch into his face over and over. No choking this time as I pulled back and gave him a chance for a big breath. Now I put both hands behind his head, holding him steady, and started a slow steady fuck. Forcing my hard prick into his throat, holding it for a couple seconds, and then pulling it almost all the way out. Corey was choking a little now and gasping for breath every chance he got, but I kept a steady rhythm going. Slowly in, forcing my ten inches into his marvelously tight wet hole, hold a moment, and then a slow return. He started choking more and upchucked once, spewing saliva down over his face, but that was just part of his learning process and I was getting hot and wasn't about to hold back now. I love slow face fucking, so I just kept up the slow steady motion, gradually heating up without ramming it to him, letting him manage as best he could. "Oh, baby. Love fucking your face" I moaned, but he seemed to be having trouble getting his breath and was starting to struggle now, so he raised his hands as if to push me away. This of course was totally unacceptable. "Put your god damn hands down" I growled as I pulled out and gave him a firm slap to the face. Breath or no breath he was never going to push his master away. "Sorry, master. Sorry" he gasped as he dropped his hands. I was hot and didn't give a fuck if he was struggling a bit, so I immediately pushed back in, using the same slow steady fucking pace and going deep into his throat with each thrust. I could probably go on like this for hours, keeping a consistent warm feeling of exultation coursing endlessly through my prick, but I knew Corey wouldn't be able to handle that. So, I fucked him for barely ten minutes. But even so, he started gagging and choking and gasping for air which was distracting as hell, but I refused to let it interfere with my pleasure. I wasn't deliberately trying to torment him, but damn it, he'd already had a couple weeks of practice and he had to learn sometime. If it was hurting him this time, he'd damn well try harder next time, and right now my gratification was a hell of a lot more important to me than any distress he might be suffering. But, finally, I pulled out of him completely. His face and hair were completely dripping with the saliva that he'd regurgitated while I was fucking, and he was coughing and choking and frantically gasping for breath. I stepped away from him and decided to let Kiante finish it. "Kiante, here" I ordered. Kiante was just a few feet away on his knees watching, so he was at my feet with my cock in his mouth in seconds. Now Kiante was a well-trained and talented cocksucker so he just swallowed my ten-inches on the first try. I turned around, pulling him with me, leaned back with my ass pressed in Corey's face, and put my hands on the corners of the table. Then I just let Kiante go at it knowing he was a talented cocksucker and would get my juices flowing almost immediately. While still panting wildly, Corey started licking my ass while Kiante got a steady deep throat motion going and started to speed up. This was just what I needed because I was already near the edge of cuming and in less than a minute I was there. Wiggling my ass in Corey's face a couple times, I grabbed Kiante's face with both hands and slammed my cock into his throat three times getting a grunt from him each time. One (ugg), two (ugg) three (ugg) and I started firing. "Yeeeaaaooooh" I yelled in exhilaration as I fired shot after shot into Kiante's throat. My whole body was shaking from the pleasure of the ejaculation and I slammed back into Corey and forward into Kiante several times totally out of control in euphoric delight. And then, finally, it was over. "Oh, baby. You are fucking great" I said to Kiante as I pushed his head back. Leaning down I gave him a kiss on the forehead. "You were terrific." Kiante got a smile on his face, because the fact is, my boys hear mostly complaints from me and very seldom compliments, so he knew that this was really special. Feeling fabulous from a mind-blowing ejaculation and totally fulfilled, I gave him a couple friendly slaps to the cheek and kissed him again. "Fuckin fantastic" I said. "Thank you, master. Thank you" Kiante said with a big grin on his face. "Corey, get my shorts and let's go pump up these muscles" I said. "And, Corey..." "Master?" "You start thinking of the blowjob you're going to give me when we get back." "Yes, master" Corey answered with a slight quiver in his voice. --------- Since Craig was back in my cell block now, I saw him several times a day, but it was slow going to try to get back in his good graces. Craig's problem was that being such a muscle hunk, he somehow thought he was butch through and through. I know that he was turned on like never before when I fucked him, but he was embarrassed afterwards with the knowledge that I had dominated him and taken his ass. His image of himself as a masculine butch stud was injured and he was having trouble reconciling himself into being my fuck boy. And let me tell you, this is Davon White here, and I was determined to change that masculine image he had of himself into something more malleable to me, and when I put my mind to something, it happens. Even though he's bigger and more muscular than me, I dominated him and fucked him, and I loved it and was determined to do it again. This was my prison and I ran it for my own personal benefit, and Craig was going to be a part of that benefit. "Hey, Craig. How's it going, man?" I said as he walked by one afternoon. I'd been super friendly to him every time I saw him since he'd returned to my cellblock. The first few times he'd barely grunted in return, but now he was beginning to thaw just a little. I still admired him, his massive muscular body and attractive face. Hell, I envied him, and used him as a benchmark for my own bodybuilding gains. I heard on the grape vine that he'd come in third in the Mr. Maryland bodybuilding contest, and I could certainly understand that because he was spectacular. "How's my Mr. Maryland today" I asked? "Cut it out, Davon. I came in third, and you probably know that" he said with a laugh. "You wouldn't have if I'd been one of the judges" I said trying to butter him up. "There's no way you could have been anything other than numero-uno." "Thanks, Davon. Next time I'll suggest that they pick you for a judge." Wow, for the first time he was actually joking with me. Evidently, I was finally beginning to break the ice with him. "Hell, Craig. I ain't even seen your body, but I know you got definition that is out of this world" I said. "You can't hide it, even under those silly guard's clothes. But" I said and kinda leered at him. "But I'd sure like to see that big bod that's under those clothes." "Ain't no way, Davon" he said, and I could see that he was serious. "I'll be the guard in this silly uniform and you just remember that you're the prisoner, and we'll get along just fine." With that he headed on down the cell block. I felt pretty good about it because that was the first time we'd had a real conversation, but I may have made a mistake calling his uniform silly. Also, he sounded inflexible when he differentiated between me and him; prisoner and guard. I was beginning to realize that I was probably not going to get into his pants again unless I took drastic action. So, I called for Ralph. Please note that I called for him, not the reverse. When we needed to talk and I felt particularly ornery, I made him come to my cell. "Hi'ya, Ralph" I chuckled. "How's my own exclusive Deputy today?" "Ahhh.... Hello, Davon." And then he barely whispered: "Master." "Speak up, slave boy. You know this is the most isolated cell in the prison; that's why you gave it to me" I said giving him a big smile. "Nobody'll hear you, so speak up." "Ahhh... Davon...." "Do what I fuckin tell you" I snarled at him. "Ahhh... yes, master" he answered. "Way to go, man. You're doing good" I said as I reached up and fluffed his hair and then rubbed my hand over his face. Yeah that was humiliating, but I made it a point to demean Ralph at every opportunity because he cost me plenty in benefits and because he was such a wimp and wouldn't stand up for himself. What made it worse for him was that Kiante and Corey were sitting there watching and I must admit that made it more fun for me. But the more Ralph acted like a gutless pansy the harder I was on him. "I got a job for you, Ralph. I want you to tell Craig to pick me up and deliver me to your office tomorrow after lunch, and then I'll need your office for an hour or so." "Ahhh.... Davon, ahhh.... master... ahhh. Craig is a cell block guard and he doesn't deliver prisoners. Tom Jackson does that." "Did I fuckin ask you who does what?" I growled at him. "Did I?" "Ahhh... no. Ahhh... master" he stuttered. "But... but... ahhh... what's with you and Craig?" "None of your fuckin business" I answered him. "You just do what I tell you." "But, Davon. Ahhh... Craig doesn't .... ahhh .... Craig's duties don't ...." "Does he work for you?" I growled at him. "Well, yeah, but ...." "And you work for me, you little shit, and you'll fuckin well do what you're told. Got it?" "Ahhh yeah... ahhh, Davon." Grabbing him by the neck I lifted him up to his tiptoes and pulled him within inches of my face. "You're getting pretty damn uppity Ralph, and I don't like it." I squeezed his neck and gave him a shake. "Apologize!" "Ahhh... sorry Davon. Okay... I'm sorry." "And you will call me master. Say it" I said as I gave him another shake, rattling the teeth in his head. "Ahhh... master. Ahhh... Dav... ahhh master. Please" He wheezed since I was crushing his neck. "We need to spend more time together, you and me, Ralph, so you learn how to behave. Now get the fuck out of here." Both Kiante and Corey were sitting on the single bed looking on in awe as I tormented the Deputy Warden of our prison and were probably hoping that my anger would not spread over on to them. ---------- When Craig came by, my boys were standing in front of me wearing tight, really tight, bikini's and tank tops. I loved having them looking sexy for me, and every day after lunch I had them dress up and show off. I mean, these were both pretty boys, muscular boys and I loved watching them pose and preen to get me all hotted up and ready to fuck one of them. My best fuck of the day was usually the one right after lunch. But today was special. Really special. "Hey Craig. How's my favorite muscle man?" I said joyfully as Craig walked up to the cell. "What's going on?" I asked. "Something strange here, Davon" he answered. "Ralph wants me to bring you to his office. Did you have anything to do with this?" "Ahhh... me?" I said with a grin. "Yeah, you. I know you've got Ralph wrapped around your little finger, Davon." (if he only knew the half of it). "So, what's up?" "I guess we'll have to go see Ralph and find out" I said innocently. Ralph looked up as we entered his office with an uncertain and maybe fearful look on his face. I had left him completely clueless about my intentions, so he had no idea what I was planning for Craig, and whether I was going to include him. I had considered making him grovel for me in front of Craig, and it actually sounded like great fun, but for today I was concentrating on Craig and Craig alone; and that hot ass of his. "Okay, Ralph. You can go" I said. Ralph was up out of his chair and out the door in about three seconds. "Alright, so Ralph does your bidding" Craig said, "but what's that got to do with me?" "Com'on, Craig. I just want to talk" I said. "I know you are not happy about what happened last month, but I just wanted to talk to you about it." "I don't want to talk about it" he said. "I don't want to remember it. It shouldn't have happened." "Oh hell, Craig. You wanted it and I wanted it. It was no big deal. Consenting adults doing what they want to do." As I said this, I unzipped my coveralls and let them fall to the floor, leaving me completely nude. "You know I'm crazy for that body of yours, and I know you're turned on to me as well." I wasn't very hard, yet, but even so I had one hefty piece of meat dangling down from my crotch showing great potential and Craig's eyes were drawn to it like a fly to honey, and it was obvious that he was shocked by its size. It was a good ten seconds before he was finally able to drag his eyes away from it, but by then it was too late because I'd already caught him. "You see something you like, Craig? Hmmm?' I said, trying not to smile. Stepping out of my coveralls, I walked over to him, and reaching up started unbuttoning his jacket. "Davon, stop it" he said, grabbing my hands. "I don't want to do this." "Craig, your body is so hot the girls must cream their panties on the street when you walk by" I said, bending down and whispering in his ear. I was a good eight inches taller than him, but every other body part except maybe his prick was bigger than mine. Actually, I hadn't seen his prick yet, but it was probably minuscule because, like most guys with teeny-weenies between their legs, he was totally blown away by a big one like mine. I said I don't kiss, but special times require special efforts, so taking hold of his chin and pushing his head back, I bent down and kissed him. And although I don't kiss much, I sure as hell know how it's done, so I stuck my tongue in and started exchanging spit with him. Twisting his head slightly for a better angle I kept the kiss going and after a bit he started kissing back. With my other hand I went back to unbuttoning his jacket. Letting up from the kiss for a moment, I pushed the jacket off his shoulders, let it fall to the floor, and grabbing a handful of hair, I pulled him back into the kiss. With my other hand I grabbed his ass and pulled him in tight against my naked body. "Oh, baby, you are so hot" I mumbled. "Davon, no, no, no. Davon" Craig whispered through the kiss. He was saying no but he was returning the kiss. Giving his ass a good squeeze, I pulled him in even tighter, jamming my crotch and my growing cock into him. Then stepping back again, I grabbed his white dress shirt, ripped it open down the front sending buttons flying all over the room, and jerked it over his shoulders and down off his arms. Bending down I gave his massive pectoral muscle a lick and a kiss and then bit his nipple, hard. That got a yelp from him as I coughed up some saliva and laved it over his huge pec. "Oh shit, Craig. What a body. What a fuckin body." I was ecstatic because I wanted to see these muscles that I'd been admiring for over a year. Yeah, I'm used to people drooling over my muscles, but there ain't nothing wrong with getting totally turned on by somebody even bigger than me. Craig was fuckin awesome. Only 5'9" or so but weighed upwards of 220, and every damn bit of it was rock solid muscle. He evidently spent his life in the gym and entered body building contests regularly, and I was envious as hell of his incredible physique. But like every good-looking guy who came into my field of vision, I wanted to dominate him and control him, and I damn well wanted to fuck him again. Giving his ass a good squeeze, I began pulling him into me as I pressed my crotch into him. With my other hand I got a handful of hair, pulled his head back, and started kissing and licking his bull sized neck. "Davon, please. Don't" he swooned but it sure didn't sound like he meant it. Both his hands had gone around me and were rubbing up and down my muscular back. "Baby, baby. I've been wanting this for so long" I mumbled through my kisses. I let go of his hair and grabbed one of his massive biceps and was delighted to feel him flex it for me. Then I licked and kissed my way down to the other side of his chest. When I got to that massive pectoral, I sucked on the nipple and gave it a good bite getting another yelp from him. "Oh, baby, we were made for each other" I moaned as I grabbed his hair again and went back to deep spit exchanging kisses. I was delirious with pleasure and I think he was too, because not for a second did he try to stop anything I was doing, and he'd now moved both hands down and was gripping my ass. He kept mumbling `no, no, no' but there was no question he didn't mean it. Finally, taking my hand off his ass, I grabbed his arm and forced his hand between our bodies and just held him there. Still holding his hair and kissing him, I waited to see if he would do anything, but since he didn't, I grabbed his hand and forced it around my massive boner. Obviously, he only needed tiniest bit of encouragement, because he immediately started squeezing it and moaning deep in his throat. "Oh yeah, baby, feel Davon's big muscle dick" I whispered as I stopped the kiss and started licking his ear. "Just for you, baby. Big hot muscle dick for you." From his reaction when he first saw me nude with my prick dangling down between my legs, there was no question whatsoever that he was already a disciple to my oversized monster, which had now grown to enormous proportions. And I'd already noticed from our crotch to crotch action that he didn't seem to have much of anything down there. In fact, if the nubbin between his legs was over five inches I'd be surprised. He was squeezing my prick even harder now and his soft moan continued. Hell, I didn't have to seduce him because he'd ensnared himself by being a size queen. "Oh baby, baby" I purred as I put both hands on his shoulders and pushed down. With little or no resistance Craig sank to his knees keeping his grip on my prick. "Oh shit. It's beautiful" he said as he settled down on his knees and finally got his first real look at my fully hard piece. "Beautiful." He was obviously mesmerized by it so I decided to try to keep my mouth shut for a change and just let him do his thing and see what would happen. Lifting his other hand, he started gently massaging the big pole with both hands. "It's fucking gorgeous, Davon" he said in awe. "Fuckin huge and fuckin gorgeous." "Big black dick" I said with a chuckle. "Just for you, babe." He kept playing with it and admiring it for the longest time until finally I put my hand behind his head and gently pulled him in. He gave no resistance at all and the minute he touched my cock he kissed it. "Oh yeah, baby, kiss that beautiful tool. Worship it, baby. Worship it." Still playing with it with both hands he started kissing up and down its' ten-inch length. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" he moaned as he leaned forward and rubbed his cheek up and down against it and then went back to kissing. I, of course, was going crazy with lust and desire, having this massive muscle man on his knees in front of me worshiping my dick. I knew I was going to have to be careful to not get too hot too soon. I always like to be in control, but I'd never experienced a hot muscle man totally into worshiping my big schlong like this before, so I held back and just let him go at it. Leaning forward again and pushing his face into my crotch, he rubbed his cheek up and down the big rod and then pushed it back and forth over his face smearing pre-cum on his eyebrows and nose. Then he moved down and started licking my balls while gently moving my prick back and forth against his face. I'd never seen anything like this before, but he seemed to be utterly oblivious to the world around him, and his complete existence seemed to be focused on my dick and only my dick. He was moaning loudly now and kept rubbing his face against it in between his kisses. He was thoroughly entranced and intoxicated by his lust for my dick. "Saliva, baby" I said softly, trying not to break the spell. "Get `em wet." Craig immediately started sucking my balls and soaking them with his spit. Keeping his eyes open, he watched almost cross-eyed, and started banging my rock-hard pole against his nose. "Davon, it's gorgeous" he repeated for the fourth or fifth time. "Absolutely gorgeous." Every man, women and child I'd ever fucked had been enamored by my big piece of black man meat, but I'd never seen anyone as overwhelmed by it as Craig was now, and it was driving me crazy with excitement. Finally taking charge, I grabbed his head with both hands and pulled his face into my soaking balls and humped him a couple times, smearing his spit all over his face from forehead to chin and back again. Then I started dragging his face up and down my prick allowing him to lick and kiss as he went. He had put his hands back on my ass, holding on tight while I slid his mouth up and down my long rod. Then, without further ado, I took aim and pushed the head of my dick between his lips. It was a no-brainer that Craig was completely enthralled by cock worship and there was no doubt in my mind that he'd break his ass trying to give a blowjob to end all blowjobs. I pushed three or four inches into him and just let him get the feel of it. He started licking and sucking up a storm like he'd been born to it and watching him and feeling him was driving me bonkers. It was totally out of this world. He was really going at it so I removed my hands from his head. And, without any input from me he took another inch or so into his mouth and sucked like crazy. Then he backed off completely, just admiring it for a few seconds before rubbing his cheek against it, giving it a couple kisses and going back down on it. This time he took a good five or six inches and I could feel it hitting against the back of his throat. "Shit, baby. That's it" I gushed in pleasure. For the first time in history I was beginning to think I was going to get deep throated by a new cocksucker on his very first try. And damned if he didn't push in harder forcing the head into his throat. He choked a little but then controlled it as he held it there and continued licking and sucking. Then he backed almost all the way off, took a deep gasping breath, and went at it again, pushing and forcing it into his throat. A guy like Craig who has built a body like his, is accustomed to pain and knows what determination is all about. And now he was hell-bent on worshiping my monster and getting every inch of it down his throat. He did go deeper this time and didn't choke at all, but still had to back off. Then taking an even bigger breath, he went at it with a single-mindedness, totally intent on taking it all the way, and I watched it disappear into his mouth, sinking deeper and deeper into his throat until his nose was finally jammed tight against my crotch. Every last centimeter of my massive bludgeon was jammed all the way down the throat of the biggest muscle dude I'd ever met, and I screamed with elation. "SHIIIIIIT" I screamed as I started shooting. "Shit, shit, shit." And what an ejaculation, probably the best one I had in months or even years. To make it even better Craig was gripping my ass forcing me in tight against him as his face was crammed tight into my crotch. And he just held it there as I fired my first two shots of cum fired directly into this throat. Then he pulled back and coughed once but kept his mouth on my cock and vacuumed up my cum as fast as I could shoot it into him. "Oh, baby, baby, baby." I cried as I watched him swallow the last couple shots of cum. "Wow, Craig, you were fabulous. God damn. You're incredible." I was sweating and panting for breath and so was he as he finally looked up at me. Giving me a smile, he gave my still hard dick half a dozen kisses and then rubbed his cheek against it again. "I love your prick, Davon" he said, smiling up at me as he kept rubbing his cheek against my now softening pole. "I really love it." "My prick loves you too, Craig" I said with a laugh. "You bet it does. You were fabulous." Grabbing him under the arm pits I pulled him to his feet, and that's when I saw the wet spot in his pants. I reached down and grabbed the wet spot and the hard prick behind it and gave it a squeeze. "I guess you were turned on, hey?" I laughed. "You're damn right I was turned on. I ain't never been turned on like that before. You got the hottest dick on the planet, Davon. I can see why your boys are so hot for you." "My boys are hot for my big cock but their also hot for big muscles. Maybe you should come by and share." "No thanks, Davon. You give me some access to this beauty of yours and I'll be happy" he said as he clasped my softening prick and gave it a good squeeze. "Turn around, Craig" I said. "Huh?" he answered. "I said, turn around." As he turned around, I reached around him putting my hands on his massive slabs of pectoral muscle, squeezing them as I pressed my crotch into his butt and jacked it a couple times. "Remember getting fucked by Davon White's magnificent love muscle, baby? Remember?" "Oh yeah, Davon, I remember" he answered. "You ready to take it again?" I whispered, blowing air into his ear. "Whenever, Boss. Whenever you say" was his response as he leaned back pressing his butt against my crotch. Comments always appreciated (and answered). Gladiatorkid@hotmail.com ddcolwell@live.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/davon-white-superstud/davon-white-superstud-12

Date: Sun, 11 Aug 2024 13:39:47 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter 12 This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black muscleman with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with consensual and nonconsensual sex. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Twelve So, I'd had Bradford now. Jesus was he a hunk. As you know I love fucking hunky kids but dominating a real mature muscle stud is nothing less than awesome. He's not only a muscle stud but he's totally submissive and likes it rough and he seems to be into bondage as well. I ain't much on bondage because it makes it look like I can't control my chattel without tying them up. Shit, I'm into karate, I'm a top-notch wrestler and a boxer with two hundred and sixty-three pounds of solid muscle, so the day that I can't overpower a guy with one hand behind my back and fuck the shit out of him is gonna be the day I die. You know I'm into rape; hell, that's why I'm in this damn prison; so when I'm taking a guy by force there ain't nothing more exciting than having him fight back so I can show him my strength and power by overpowering him and then fucking him. You tie a guy up so he can't fight back and there ain't no challenge, and it takes all the fun out of it. But if Rad lets me have Bradford again I've got some ideas in the back of my mind and maybe I could experiment with some bondage. So, when I got back to the cell after fucking Bradford, Angel had gotten rid of the two kids who cleaned our cell today. It didn't need to be cleaned every day, but Angel just loved to lord it over the other young prisoners. Other than getting it on with me, his favorite past time was playing at being king-of-the-castle. I'm getting pretty much acclimated to this place now and have discovered that being Rad's boy comes with benefits. My cell is not locked so I can now work out in the weight room whenever I want and take a shower at any time of the day as well. And, the best thing, I can even keep a boy in my cell, in my bed, overnight. So, I was getting pretty comfortable. However, one of the things I really missed was the four-man cells they had at `Baltimore City'. Yes, I fucked kids overnight here, but I could only keep one permanently in my cell. Probably doesn't sound like much of a hardship to you, but I liked waking up in the morning with two or more cute boys ready and anxious to service me. One is good; two is great; more than two can be terrific. But I had a plan. Hell, you know Davon White is always working on something. I'd already discovered that this prison did not have bunk beds, but only singles, barely cots actually, two to a room. Consistently, throughout the prison, two to a room. However, if I could somehow slip the idea to Rad that he should purchase at least one set of bunk beds, I could get two kids in here with me. The cells weren't huge but were big enough for three and a bunk bed doesn't take up any extra space anyway. I'd already mentioned it to Nick and Beth and was going to suggest it to Bradford. Hopefully, one of them would mention it to the purchasing agent or to Rad. Besides, I'd already made arrangements with Jamal to buy it and get it ready to ship. I only needed an okay from Rad. As you know I've become very partial to white boys these days. Ain't nothing better than taking a white boy, preferably a racist white boy, and teaching him to kiss my black feet and eat my black ass. I teach them to beg for it; beg to be allowed to eat my ass. Once I get them trained, it's pretty damn sensational watching my ten-inch black dong sliding in and out between a pretty white boy's pink lips or slipping in and out between his sweet ivory-colored buns. I'm still biased towards brown boys; Hispanics and blacks with beautiful brown skin. But, I admit, because of our racial history, there was really something special about using and demeaning white boys and turning them into my groveling little cum-dumps. The only thing better than having a fawning white boy cunt begging to be allowed to eat my black ass, is two white boy cunts begging to be allowed to eat my black ass. And I was just crazy about the contrast when I'm looking down and banging my big black dick on a white boy's face while he's slurping on my nuts. I already told you I'd picked out a blond kid, Ryder, to start on my training program. Angel, of course, is a butch looking young white boy; a real beauty. Call him angelic if you will, an angelic Angel, but he had dark complexion and black hair. Actually, that's my favorite, but as long as I'm going to enjoy white boys anyway, I might as well have the pleasure of having corresponding types. I mean, seeing two white boys, one blond and one brunet, with their faces buried in your crotch at the same time is outa this world. Totally spectacular. And that's what I was going to have. Ryder was waiting in the cell when Angel and I got back from lunch. "Hey, Angel, I already cleaned this place for you this morning" he whined. "Wha'chu want now?" "Get lost for a while, Angel" I said, and Angel slipped out of the cell. Jesus this kid was pretty. Yeah, I know, I say that about all the kids. But I only pick the very best to begin with, so of course they're pretty. But this kid; first of all, he was tiny, the tiniest I'd ever picked up, only 5'4" or so, and second, he was a towhead, almost white hair. I intended to spend a lot of time rubbing my big black dick all over that pretty face and rubbing it through that silky blond hair as well. He was wearing the typical prison coveralls, but they were rolled up at the sleeves and at the ankles because they were way too big for him. I was pretty sure he had a nice body underneath those baggy coveralls to go along with his pretty face and I intended to find that out right now. Stepping up to him, I grabbed the zipper and jerked it down to his waist. Pushing the coveralls off his shoulders and arms, I let them fall to the floor. Putting one big paw around his neck I lifted, pulling him up to his tiptoes. "Hey, man. Fuck" he shouted. "Stop it! Stop it! Get your nigger hands off of me you son-of-a-bitch. Guard! Guard!" I could only smile; a real racist. This was going to be fun. I just loved this kind of kid. I could only laugh at him calling a guard. Of course, no guard was going to come. I grabbed him around the neck with both hands and putting my foot on his coveralls where they were now lying on the floor, I lifted him up off his feet and out of them. I was choking him, so he was having trouble shouting. `Mmmggggg. Mmmgggg" was all that came out as he tried desperately to remove my hands from his neck. Then he started flinging his arms around trying to hit me, but he was so small he could only bang futilely against my arms. I stood there smiling at him, holding him a couple inches off the floor as he struggled. "Honey bun, you gonna make this nigger real happy" I chuckled, and then I spit in his face. A nice big wad of saliva right in the forehead and watched it drip down over his nose. Letting him down so his feet touched the floor, but still holding him tight with my left hand, I slapped him hard with my right. "Aaaauuuuggg" was the sound he made as he tried to scream while I was crushing his larynx. His face was bright red, and he was squirming around like crazy trying to get away. Jesus was he cute, squirming around that way. A total turn-on. I was loving it and decided right then-and-there that I was going to have him squirm exactly like that when I got my prick up his ass. I spit in his face again and then slapped him. He was trying to scream and trying to cry and trying to get away all at the same time, but this was impossible since I was holding him and strangling him. His face was getting even redder, tears were streaming down his cheeks and snot was coming from his nose and he kept trying to make a sound. I was still holding him up with my enormous strength, so his toes were only barely touching the floor. I had to chuckle because the way he was dangling there and thrashing around was just like the proverbial puppet-on-a-string. It was beautiful. Maybe I am a bit of a sadist sometimes, I don't know, but having total power over a kid like this and watching him squirm and cry is mind-blowing. I spit a healthy wad into his face for a third time, hit him again, and then let him fall to the floor. I went over and sat on the bed as he gasped and cried and groaned all at the same time and held on to his sore neck. His neck was probably going to be black and blue for a few days, and his face was going to be red, but he'd recover, and he was eventually going to look gorgeous once I got him on his knees in front of me with my dick in his face. I gave him about five minutes before I got up and stripped. He wasn't even looking as I flexed my big arms, stuck out my chest, tightened my abs, and watched my half hard dick bob up and down, but, oh yes, it wouldn't be long before I'd have him trained to worship every inch of this gorgeous physique of mine. Oh yeah, he was going to learn to love this body. He was lying on his side in a fetal position, crying softly and holding his neck as I walked up and put a bare foot on his face. No pressure, but just sliding it over his face. "What's my name?" I said softly. Only now, he finally opened his eyes and looked up at me, showing total terror. Just that quick, less than ten minutes, and all that arrogance was gone. "Davon?" he whimpered as he looked at me and hoped that was the right answer. "My name is Mr. White, sir" I said. "Say it." "Yes, sir, Mr. White, sir" he croaked. "Sit up" I said as I removed my foot from his face. He slowly lifted up, so he was sitting on his butt looking up at me. "You used a bad word with me, Ryder. That makes me unhappy. Apologize." "Sorry, sir, ahhh... Mr. White, sir. I'm sorry." No hesitation in the apology, so this kid knew already it was in his best interest to give me what I wanted. "I think you should be punished. What do you think?" "Ahhh..., sir. Mr. White, sir. Please. I ahhh..." "I'm going to punish you. Is that okay with you?" "Please, Mr. White, sir. Please don't. I said I'm sorry." "Answer my question" I snapped at him. "Do you want me to punish you?" "Please, Mr. White, sir..." he started crying now. "Please, sir." "Say yes you piece of shit" I shouted. "Yes, sir, Mr. White, sir." I reached over and grabbed his neck and pulled him to his feet. As he looked into my eyes, I made a production of hawking up some spit and spit into his face again, this time a lot of it going right into his open mouth. "Swallow" I growled at him as I pulled him back up on his tiptoes, just inches from my face. He had a look of horror on his face, but he swallowed. "Say thank you" I snapped. "Ahhh... sir" he had to think about this, but he quickly came to his senses. "Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. White, sir." I pushed him back down on the floor again and he went back to whimpering. I walked over and sat on the bed and just watched as he lay there moaning and crying. I gave him a couple minutes and then called him over. "Crawl over here to me" I ordered him. He did hesitate for a moment, but only a moment because he knew he had no choice. He crawled over in front of me on his hands and knees. "You don't like niggers, boy?" I asked. Now he got a really shocked look on his face. He didn't have a clue how to answer that. "Ahhh... Mr. White, sir..." and more tears came to his eyes. He was definitely afraid of saying the wrong thing. "Well, you're going to learn to love niggers, and particularly this nigger" I said. I couldn't help but grin as I said this, because this kid had no idea how true this was, and how much I was going to enjoy teaching him. Reaching out and grabbing a handful of his beautiful blond hair, I just held him there looking into his eyes. "You gonna learn to love me, hon. I'll make sure of that." He just sniffled but the look of terror was still in his eyes. "I know you're sorry for calling me names, aren't you?" I said as I pulled him in, just inches from my face. "Yes, sir, Mr. White, sir" he whimpered. "I know you want to show me how sorry you are, so if you ask me nicely, I'm going to allow you kiss my feet." I just waited for his response. "Ahhh... ahhh... sir? Ahhh... wha...?" "You will ask me nicely if I will let you kiss my feet to make amends" I said sternly as I tightened the grip on his hair. "You will do it now." He hesitated, thinking it through, wondering if he had an alternative. "Now?" I growled. "Ask me." He was weeping but he came to his senses and realized what he had to do. "Please, Mr. White, sir. May I kiss your feet?" "Say it again" I growled. "Please, Mr. White, sir. May I kiss your feet?" "Go ahead, since you asked me nicely" I answered as I let go of his hair. He bent down and kissed each of my feet. "Okay, now lick" I ordered him. And he did. Still crying softly with tears dripping off his cheeks he started licking my feet. So that's how it goes. This is how Davon White teaches a kid to perform. Sometimes it's so easy that it's almost disappointing when it's over, so I had to chuckle as I watched him groveling and licking my feet. I mean, you can only have the pleasure of training a kid once; then he becomes a fawning minion needing only occasionally discipline. But hell, I was certainly enjoying it right now. "Now beg me to forgive you" I said as I pulled his head up so he could look at me. "Please, Mr. White, sir" he cried. "Please forgive me." "For what?" I asked. "For ahhh... for calling you a bad name" he replied. "For calling me what?" I said. "Please, sir, Mr. White, sir" he cried. He had a look of terror on his face, not knowing what to say, not daring to use the `N' word, and expecting me to hit him again. "I'm very sorry, Mr. White, sir. Please, sir. Forgive me." "You're a worthless piece of shit, Ryder" I growled at him. "You know that?" "Yes, sir" he whimpered. "Say it" I ordered him. "Tell me you're a worthless piece of shit." "I'm a worthless piece of shit, Mr. White, sir." "Back on my feet. Soft gentle kisses only." I put a couple pillows behind me and just relaxed as he got his mouth back on my feet and started kissing them. With a slave in training, you have to make sure they are obeying orders and know exactly what they need to be doing. So, after letting him kiss for five minutes or so, I directed him to lick. I hate a dry tongue, so I had him get lots of saliva and really wash my feet for a while. Then I had him lick between the toes for a bit, followed by sucking on each toe, always giving him careful instructions. I slapped him on the ass a couple times when I felt he was not being sufficiently servile and made him thank me for slapping him. That's how you train a kid because the slaps work. Ryder became more attentive and more focused after each slap. And I loved it. I can't even remember the last time I had a beautiful blond boy worshiping my feet and the contrast between my blackness and his whiteness was a delight to behold. And that cute little butt sticking up was quite an invitation. I mean, you know how much I'm into body worship, and I can spend hours having boys working me over with their mouths, but I've also got a big dick that needs lots of attention as well, and that ass right now looked delectable. My cock had been hard ever since I spit in this kid's face the first time, and now it was demanding some action. Grabbing his underwear, and with a quick yank, I ripped them off him. Then, getting a nice grip on his hair, I pulled him back up to his knees and stood up in front of him. Grabbing my dick with the other hand, I rubbed the tip against his pretty red lips smearing them with pre-cum. "Look up at me, baby" I said. There were no tears now, and maybe just a little fear. Basically, he looked to be showing resignation, perhaps acceptance of whatever I was going to do to him. "Now lick your lips. Lick my cum off your lips." Looking up into my eyes he licked his lips without question or comment. "Good, boy" I said. "Now kiss" I said, still holding my dick up to his lips. He kissed the tip of my dick. "Again." He kissed it again. "Now lick. Only the tip." I kept holding my hard dick there while he licked around the tip. Oh shit, what a trip. Pretty blond towhead licking my black dick with his cute little red tongue. "Oh, shit, yeah" I moaned. "May I come in now, Master" a voice said, and I looked up to see Angel standing at the cell door. "Perfect timing, Angel" I chuckled. "As always, perfect timing." "Yes, Master" he said as he entered the cell. "Strip down and join us, babe. I got me a virgin ass here needs some of your attention." Within seconds Angel stripped down to the buff and came over and got on his knees. I still had one hand in Ryder's hair, so I let go of my dick allowing it smack up against my belly and grabbed Angel with my other hand. "Just kiss. Up and down my dick" I said pulling both boy's faces into my crotch. Angel got with it immediately, but Ryder was confused or hesitant, so I gave his hair a jerk. "Kiss it pissant. Do what Angel's doing." This got his attention and he started kissing, so I had me a blond and a brunet, one on each side of my dick, giving me hot kisses. Yes. Finally. Finally. I'd been dreaming about this moment for weeks, and it was even better than in my dreams. Both boys were young, Angel was eighteen and Ryder was nineteen, both had what you call baby faces, and while Angel was muscular, Ryder's build was better than average. And both boys were worshiping Davon White's big dick. I wasn't about to cum yet but let me tell you I was about as hotted up as I could possibly get. "Oh shit, babies. You are beautiful" I gushed as I watched them and admired them as they worked my big black super hard prick with their mouths. Oh yeah, this was my thing. I could spend hours watching this, and hell yes, I fully intended to spend hours watching this every fucking day. These boys were going to make me deliriously happy every morning and every afternoon, and most definitely, every night. But some good things must occasionally give way to even better things. I was ready to fuck. I was ready to fuck this beautiful blond boy's virgin ass. I know that a virgin ass is only virgin one time, the first time and my big prick knows it too, so you can bet I really enjoy sticking my dick into a young lad's hole that very first time. I've had way, way more than my share of virgins; dozens, maybe more than dozens, and it's been fabulous every time. "I think he's a virgin, babe, so get the cream and start getting him ready" I said to Angel. "Yes, Master" he answered as he got up and went to get my seldom used tube of fucking cream. "Get on my balls, honey bon" I said, grinning down at Ryder. "Suck on `em. Keep me hard for the main event." He started sucking on my balls but didn't react otherwise, so I think he was so caught up in the delirium of the moment that he didn't realize what was going on. But he was going to damn well find out real soon because my dick was hot a ready and dripping. I was watching my big black ten inches lying across Ryder's face as he slurped on my balls. There ain't anything more beautiful than that. My big black dong on a pretty white boy's face. It's fucking beautiful, almost breathtaking. Angel rubbed some cream into Ryder's ass and then stuck a finger in and wiggled it. Ryder let out a grunt but didn't react otherwise. Then I realized that this kid hadn't even had a chance to taste my dick yet. I mean, he was going to learn over the next couple weeks how to deal with this big monster, so there ain't no better time to start than right now. I reached down and put my hand under his chin pulling his face up to look at me. He was covered with my spit and his own saliva and looked rather teary-eyed, which made him look even more enticing than before. I spit another wad into his face and smeared it all over with my hand. The look on his face was..., I don't know, maybe resignation. But it wouldn't be long, just a couple weeks, before that look would change to one of respect and admiration. Yes, he was going to respect me, and he was going to be grateful for being allowed to serve me. He was going to appreciate the thrill of submitting to a demigod, and he was going to learn to fear me and maybe even love me. I stuck three fingers into his mouth. "Suck on `em, honey bon" I said softly. "Look at me while you worship my fingers." He looked into my eyes as he sucked on my fingers like a trooper. Oh yeah, he was hot, and he was ready. Pushing my cock down to his lips, I pushed it in, replacing my fingers. The look on his face changed to shock but he knew what he had to do, and he started sucking on it. I only gave him about two inches to give him a chance to get acclimated. He grunted again as Angel evidently stuck another finger up his butt. "Not too much Angel. I want to know this is a virgin ass. And I want him to know he's getting it from Davon White." "Yes, Master" Angel said as he set back on his haunches. "He's ready. He's tight so it's gonna be good for you, and he's definitely gonna know you're breaking his cherry." I grabbed Ryder's hair and slowly pulled his head into my crotch, forcing more dick into his mouth. Four inches, and then five inches, and he started to choke. He raised his arms to try to push away so I yelled at him. "Get those fucking arms down" I shouted, and he immediately dropped them to his sides. "Now suck" I growled at him. He gradually got the choking under control, and I let him just work on five inches for now, but even so, it was filling his mouth all the way back to his throat. It looked good and it felt great, pretty blond boy with my black dick in his face. "Oh yeah, baby" I crooned. "I'm looking forward to teaching you to bury that pretty white face into my black crotch. I'm gonna love it and so are you." I pushed him back off his knees, so he fell on his butt and then onto his back. Lifting his legs and pushing them against his chest, I reached around them, grabbed his shoulders and lifted him up against my chest. Hey, I told you he was tiny, only weighing one hundred ten pounds or so, and with my muscles and two hundred sixty-three-pound physique, he was like lifting a toy. I was going to give this virgin boy the ride of his life. I pulled him in tight, his legs pointing straight up, and his face pressed against my upper chest. The top of his head barely came up to my chin. "Line me up, Angel" I said. Angel grabbed my prick and aligned it with Ryder's little pucker, and I lowered him just enough for the huge head to press against him. "Here we go, baby" I laughed in enjoyment. "Here we go. You gettin Davon White's hot prick up your pretty virgin ass." Then I slowly allowed his weight to press against my prick, gradually forcing his ass to open to accept my bludgeon. Ryder started screaming: "Owwww, owwww, owwww. Nooo, nooo." I had him tight against my chest so he couldn't get his arms free, so I just ignored him and concentrated on the pleasure of his tight ass as I forced the bulbous head up into him. "Oh shit, yeah" I groaned in pleasure as I just held him there with just the head of my prick in him, only an inch or two. "Hot-fuckin-ass, baby." He kept moaning `no, no, please, please' but I was relishing not only the fabulous feeling, but the knowledge of taking this tiny little white boy's virgin ass. Yeah, three things: a white boy, a tiny white boy, and a virgin white boy. My newest boytoy. As you know I ain't no sadist, so I know that because my prick is so damn big, taking a virgin ass can be tough on a kid. I didn't give a shit if he enjoyed it, this was for my enjoyment, but I didn't want to tear him up, so I pulled completely out, and gave him about twenty seconds of respite. "Okay, Angel. Do it again" I said, and Angel lined me up and I pushed in again. The kid still screamed, seemingly in agony, but what the hell, I wasn't about to pull out again. It wouldn't be long before it got better. I gently lowered him allowing a couple more inches of cock to press into his butt. Oh shit, he was tight. Angel had done the job, so I was sliding in smoothly, but that ass was opening up like it had never opened before. I pressed on, allowing a couple more inches to force its' way into him. The kid was yelling, right in my god damn ear, which was getting me pissed. "Angel, muffle him" I growled. Angel grabbed the kid's torn underwear from where I'd dropped them, came over, and stuffed them in his mouth. That was better. Quieter anyway. Then I slowly lowered him, forcing most all of Davon White's enormous dick into his hot ass. Oh, yeah. I was just standing there, my knees slightly bent, my head thrown back in delight, as I lifted him up a couple inches and lowered him back down. Not really fucking, but just getting a good feel of his ass. Then I did it again, raising him a couple inches and then lowering him back on my prick. Holding him steady against my chest, I now started fucking gently. Pulling back, withdrawing four or five inches and pressing back into him. He was still tighter than hell, but with Angel's prep it was smooth going as I pushed slowly in and out of his sweet butt. I'd already decided, since he was such a light weight, and just for the novelty of it, to fuck him from beginning to end while standing up. I'd done this plenty of times with other kids for just a few moments, but Ryder was so little that it was like nothing to carry him around. Holding him with one arm around his back, I grabbed his ass with the other and started bouncing him up and down on my prick. Oh yeah, this was it, the ultimate. As I lifted him and dropped him, I bent my knees even more and started banging my crotch up into his butt, meeting each bounce. He was still moaning and groaning and saying shit, but since he was muffled it wasn't bothering me none, so I just closed my eyes, threw my head back again, and started really slamming into him. Really ramming my crotch into him now, I was literally throwing him up in the air and letting him fall back to meet my next thrust. With a ten-inch prick to work with there ain't no worries about it popping out. "Oh, sweet Jesus, baby" I moaned in satisfaction as I now started walking around the cell. Hey, that's the whole idea. There ain't nothing better than walking around with a boy on your prick as you're fucking the hell out of him. The grin on my face must have been a mile wide as I slammed him up and down. I was in heaven. The little shit was still moaning, but I knew damn well the worst of the pain must be gone by now. But as always, pain is pleasure. He was going to learn that giving me pleasure was paramount, and he'd even learn to enjoy and appreciate any pain that might go along with it. Yeah, that's just the way it is with Davon White. My boys always loved and appreciated a little pain when they knew it was giving their master pleasure. Maybe he wouldn't enjoy this, his very first experience with my big black dong, but he was going to get a whole lot more of it from now on and he was going to learn to love it. I didn't want it to end. I continued walking around the cell, banging the hell out of him, and chuckling to myself, savoring the pleasure of the fuck. But all good things must come to an end, and I was getting very hot. So, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him slightly away from my chest and holding him there, I started really slamming into him like a pile driver, over and over, at least fifteen times. And I literally howled as I came into this cute white boy's hot ass, firing shot after shot and knowing that I was filling his virgin ass for the very first time. The kid was still blubbering and crying as I fired into him over and over again, and as I fired my last shot, I noticed that his little prick wasn't hard. Not surprising for the first time I guess, but that's something we'd have to work on. I expected my fuck boys to love being dominated by me so much that they'd shoot their load without even touching themselves. This kid would learn that being used by Davon White was an honor, and he'd learn to look forward to it. As with all my boys, it wouldn't take long to bring out his masochist side and get him to appreciate how hot it is to be dominated by a muscle god. Laying Ryder down on my desk, I very slowly pulled my softening prick out of his no-longer virgin ass. Tears were still dripping down his face as I pulled the underwear out of his mouth, but at least he was quiet. "You've been totally fucked now, baby" I said with a grin as I tussled his hair. "You've had Davon White's big prick up your sweet little ass. But now you've got to thank me. Little boys got to thank their master when he fuck's them." I pulled him off the desk onto his knees in front of me. "Look at me, baby" I said, taking his chin and forcing him to look up. His face was still covered with my spit and tears were dripping off his chin as he sobbed softly. "Now say `thank you, Master'. Holding his chin, I just waited. After a moment he whimpered softly: "thank you". "Master" I said. "Thank you, master." "Good boy" I said. "Now clean me off." Sticking my thumb in his mouth forcing it open, I pushed my cock in. "Suck on it, slave boy. Get it nice and clean." I put a hand behind his head, holding him there, as he sucked on my softening rod. So, he'd called me master and I'd called him my slave boy, so we were well on our way. I had great hopes that with a week or two of training, this kid was going to be a perfect little worshipper, and he and Angel were going to give me a hell of a lot of pleasure. -------------- So, here I was, lying on my bunk on my belly with Ryder's face buried in my ass slurping up a storm. I had my hands crossed under my face as I relaxed, and I glanced around occasionally to see him, just to enjoy the vision of this cute blond white boy with his face pressed into my black ass. It was the middle of the afternoon and Ryder had been at it for about a half hour now and I intended to spend all afternoon here relaxing and being worshiped. Angel was on his knees next to the bunk waiting in case I had any instructions for him. He'd occasionally lean in and give my arm or shoulder and even my cheek a soft kiss. He knew he could get away with light kisses without any direction from me. I was going to give Ryder a few more minutes of ass worship before I rolled over and one boy on each side for a tongue bath. After that I'd have one of them, probably Angel, give me a long, slow blowjob. Ryder was learning to be a pretty decent cocksucker now that he'd had a couple weeks training, but I made sure I shared, giving each one of them the opportunity to serve, and it was Angel's turn. I'd probably let Rider suck on my toes or something while Angel did me just to give him something to do. Life was good. I had my bunk bed now, so I had Angel and Ryder at my beck and call 24/7. I also had a couple dozen other kids available from here in the youth wing if I wanted some variety. No virgins anymore because Rad always got them first before giving me the go ahead. But taking Rad's seconds was pretty damn incredible since nobody could turn a kid into a servile fawner in one session like Rad could. Hey. I admired Rad so much, just doing a kid and knowing Rad's dick had already been up there turned me on like crazy. I was still Rad's boy, and he used me once or twice a month, and I loved every second of it. Yeah, me, Davon White, a masochist; can you believe it? It was never easy with Rad, and I always ended up with a bruise or two. But he was so exceptional, such a god, and I revered him so much, that I savored every moment I had with him. I don't think I loved him, but I idolized and venerated him. I simply admired and respected him for his amazing power and strength and incredible masculinity. Angel still had a year to go on his sentence, but Ryder was getting out in three months. He'd need to be replaced but there was no hurry, and with Angel and Ryder being such perfect slaves I didn't want to even think about training anyone else. I just wanted to hang loose and accept their worship, the culmination of all my efforts at training them to be my perfect slaves and fuck boys. My prison sentence called for only eighteen months with good behavior, and I must admit I have considered talking to Rad about extending it. Can you believe that? What is it they say? I was as snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug here at `Maryland Correctional' and I wasn't sure getting out would be an improvement. However, no matter how you look at it, I had obligations. Jamal was struggling to run the business and needed my help. He'd always been my Lieutenant, my second in command, and he really wasn't hardnosed enough to keep everybody in line. He needed me. So, I was probably going to get out in just over a year, but I was going to enjoy the time I had left. I mean, it was going to be like seventh heaven, and me and my cock were going to revel in it and savor every single minute. Any response would be appreciated. Gladiatorkid@hotmail.com ddcolwell@live.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/davon-white-superstud/davon-white-superstud-4

Date: Sat, 1 Jun 2024 12:53:09 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter 4 This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black muscleman with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with consensual and nonconsensual sex between characters. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Four As usual when I woke up, I stretched my muscles, feeling the remaining twinges of fabulous muscle pain from yesterday's workout and almost hearing my bones creak. Shit, I was sleeping well these days. I mean, life was good, really good, and except for the minor inconvenience of being in prison, it couldn't be better. The businesses were going well, and Jamal said we were making money hand over fist, so I was going to live high on the hog when I finally got out of here. I had a new slave boy, Kiante, who no longer pretended to be a good slave, but was now one hundred percent dedicated to being my perfectly obedient fuck boy. Knocking the shit out of him a couple times and instilling a sense of fear had done wonders for his performance. I also had a new boy coming either today or tomorrow. The silly eighteen-year-old rapist who liked screwing women in front of their kids. I didn't really give a shit what he'd done but was most interested in what he was going to be doing for me. He's an eighteen-year-old white kid and I haven't had a teenager since my raping days before coming to prison. But best of all, he'd been a high school wrestler and football player so he must have a great body, and from the pictures I'd seen he was gorgeous. Oh, I'd had more than my share of pretty ones, but this kid seemed to almost too good to be true. Just a couple weeks ago I had a pretty white boy, Louis, who was so pliable that he was almost completely trained as my fuck boy after only one day. He was a beauty and I kinda liked having a white boy serving me, so I decided to replace him with another white dude. Louis was pretty damn good looking, but this kid Corey was younger and even more muscular, I think, and even prettier, so let me tell you, I was looking forward to this. From what I've heard he has a real chip on his shoulder as well so that was a real plus because it would give me the opportunity to beat it out of him in the first few hours. I know how to deal with kids with attitude. -------------- Even at fourteen I was a stud; muscular and hot looking and since I was such a hunk, I hardly needed an illegal ID. And once I discovered how popular my dick was, I dressed to show it off and was out on the hunt most nights with an enormous bulge showing in my tight pants. I was kinda counting, back then, and I had about thirty tricks that first six months when I was only fourteen, and the numbers picked up after that, and I seldom fucked any of them twice. Baltimore had a shit load of singles bars at that time, and I was popular at every one of them. I was fucking girls back then and hadn't yet discovered the pleasures of young boy ass. I found out from the very first girl I fucked that they tended to like a black muscle stud with a big dick like me to be rough and demanding; really rough and really demanding. That was positively enlightening to me because who would have thought (remember, I was only fourteen); who would have thought that I could be as domineering and demanding and self-centered as I wanted to be to get my rocks off, and my tricks would love it. I found that I could be as arrogant and egotistical as I wanted, never worrying about their feelings, because they got their pleasure from my pleasure, and my pleasure came from me knocking them around and fucking the absolute shit out of them. It made me feel like a God, and as a fourteen-year-old, it went right to my head. Nothing seemed to get those bitches squealing with pleasure as much as me roughing them up a little and making them choke on my prick or giving it to them up the ass. My first experience with a boy was a sixteen-year-old bully at my school. Since he was older than me, he thought he could get away with confronting me. I kicked the shit out of him and raped him. And, what I found out was that I liked it. I liked beating up a boy and fucking him and I wanted it again. So, I kept my eye out until I happened to see this kid at a wrestling meet, got an instant hard-on and got a major turning point in my life. He was perfect. A good-looking white kid with a perfect body, probably sixteen years old, or two years older than me. And stuck up. He had an amazing body and was an excellent wrestler, but he was terribly vain and walked around like a peacock, showing off. Stuck-up white boys piss me off, er., I mean, turn me on. Yeah, he turned me on. I had a vision in my mind of him on his knees in front of me with tears dripping down his face and begging me to hurt him, or not to hurt him, or whatever. Just imagining dominating and controlling this spoiled white boy was about to blow the top of my head off, and I hardly even considered that it was a sexual thing and that I'd want to get my rocks off at the same time. I was so fuckin turned on by him that I couldn't wait, so within a week I had tracked him down and found out his schedule. I caught him coming out of the local gym after his workout. He'd taken his shirt off, to show off of course, and had a towel over his shoulder and was carrying his gym bag. Honest to God, he was so gorgeous that I actually had to wipe the drool off my chin. I mean, Jesus, what a hunk. Me and my cock were almost equally jumping up and down with desire and anticipation. Since we were in a developed area, I had to talk him up to get him somewhere private, so I approached him and started complimenting the hell out of his good looks and his wrestling ability. And then, with my devastating smile, sparkling personality and hunky body, I gave some flimsy excuse to get him to come along with me. And I can tell you that has never been a problem with me, convincing the peons of the world to do damn near anything I want them to do. I mean, I've got killer looks and a radiant personality, so it's always been easy to manipulate those around me. So, getting this wrestler kid to go along with me was a piece of cake. I think I told him I had some cool female wrestling videos he'd like. I had no place to go in those days, so the best I could manage was to get him to the park. Once we were there, I just slugged him hard and dragged him into some bushes. Now, I told you this event changed my life, so you've got to get a clear picture of this. This gorgeous white kid was lying naked on the ground and moaning, I'd already stripped him, and I was standing over him with the hardest hard-on I'd ever had and an almost overwhelming feeling of power. I waited until he opened his eyes before I started stripping, and I did it real slow, so he'd see every muscle on my body as I uncovered it. I said he was sixteen and hunky but what he was seeing, looking up at me, was a vision of a young God. I said I looked eighteen, and that was a very muscular eighteen. He tried to say something while I was stripping but I don't remember what, but it didn't matter anyway since I was beyond listening and was transfixed in some kind of sexual trance. Some kind of power trip trance. As I pulled my shorts off, I stood and flexed my beautiful fifteen-inch biceps giving him a double bicep pose, and allowing him a view of my incredibly perfect teen body. Even as built as he was, here was a body he could only wish for, with one hell of a boner sticking way out in front as well. I was so turned on that my cock started throbbing, bouncing up and down as I flexed, and as I reached down and grabbed it, the damn thing started shooting. You think I wasn't excited? This was the most exciting ejaculation of my young life as I let out a yell and fired my jism a couple feet up in the air and then down onto this gorgeous white kid. I was in absolute out-of-control ecstasy as burst after burst of cum landed on that muscular body beneath me and I screamed so loud they must have heard me a block away. My last shot of cum landed right on his nose which turned me on even more, and the look on his face gave me the most mind-blowing feelings of machismo and superiority that I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. After I tied him up, I sat on top of him and rubbed my prick in his face for the longest time, simply enjoying the look on his face as I humiliated him. Looking him in the eye and hearing him beg and cry as I spit on him and slapped him some, was the most incredible power trip of my young life. This was true domination. Total control of another person. I owned this kid, and he was mine until I was done with him. A power trip that changed my life. After I played around with him for a while, I put his legs on my shoulders and fucked him. That's when I discovered that although total dominance and complete superiority over another human was incredibly hot, using a boy, the male species, as a receptacle for my big black dick was no less than nirvana, the absolute ultimate in exquisite pleasure. Now, I ain't quite done yet. I gotta tell you one more thing. Something that gave me the biggest swelled head on the planet and expanded my already huge ego to monstrous proportions. I was young and stupid at that time, so that kid I raped, that wrestler kid, went to my school. I had never noticed him until he stopped me in the hall one day, and you guessed it; he wanted it again. So, I fucked him two more times, and was even rougher than the first time. After that he was a pest until I really knocked him on his ass and made him leave me alone. So, I became then, and still am now, the most arrogant egotistical black stud in the state, or the nation, or the world, or whatever. No way did I need a lover because I admit I was madly in love with myself. I mean, what's not to love? ---------- I've got to tell you something else about me too. I don't kiss. Kissing is for sissies and lovers, and I've never been either one. I've never wanted a lover, and I don't want a lover now, and I don't think I'll ever want a lover. Hey, I love sex. I'm absolutely, totally and completely dedicated to having sex, but, and this is a really big `but', I'm fundamentally addicted to domination. Total control of another human being. I mean, using my staggering muscular strength to overpower and physically force them against their will to become my most ardent enthusiasts is mind boggling. Battering them around enough to show them my supremacy and then getting them to put their hearts and souls into servicing me is glorious. Now that's something that gets my juices flowing and makes my cock really, really hard. Although I'm basically bi-sexual, after I discovered the joy of boy sex, I tended to lean in that direction. I mean, a girl knows she's going to get fucked which takes away the fun of the domination unless she is blowing you against her will. In fact, now that I think of it, after that second rape, I always made the girls blow me first before I even considered sticking it into their cunt. That was the `control' thing. But, with this giant wanker of mine, most wanted to make a go at it anyway, even though it was a struggle. Yeah, everybody admires a big dick. So, I started almost exclusively dominating and fucking boys, husky, butch looking boys. Basically, I found that there were three types of guys out there on my radar screen. The gay guys or `would be' gay guys who want to be roughed up and fucked by a muscle stud like me. There's a million of them around. Then there are the straight guys who want to be dominated and roughed up and fucked by a muscle stud like me. There's a lot of them around too. And finally, the ones that really get my heart pounding are the straight guys, hunky straight guys who want nothing to do with me and have to be taken down and raped. At least they pretend they don't want anything to do with me. But hell, give me a couple hours with them, and a lot of them believe they were born to be this black stud's pussy. So, now you know my interests and you know why rape drives me into the throes of absolute rapture. Once I get out of prison, I'm still going to be out looking for straight boys since rape is like a drug for me. It just builds up and builds up inside me over time until I can't control it any longer, and I have to have it. Hot muscle boy ass, that is. But I've promised myself that I won't do it very often. Just occasionally when my lust for sexual gratification and subjugation gets the best of me and becomes uncontrollable. Actually, I won't even have to get involved much anymore since Raylon has decided that when I get out of prison, he's going to pick out the boys and bring them to me. Yeah, really. I don't know if this will be as exciting as picking them up myself, but I'm willing to give it a try. None of my boys, particularly Raylon and Jamal, want to see me back in prison again, so until they change the law and make rape legal, they're going to be watching out for me. Having Raylon deliver good looking hunks to my door ready to be raped should be pretty damn convenient. Hell, I shouldn't need it very often anyway since there's plenty of guys around would climb all over themselves wanting to get into my pants. I mean, as spectacular and gorgeous as I am, no shit, I'm also leader of the `Black Guerrilla Family' with business interests, and I have a couple dozen mostly young people out there delivering and working for me, and a couple dozen more trying to get in. So, there's an endless supply of kids trying to get my attention who would be more than willing to get acquainted with my dick. Me, Davon White, the gorgeous muscle stud and gang leader; how can they fuckin resist. I barely have to lift a finger to get them running to see who can bend over for me first. So back to the kissing bullshit. I don't kiss. I dominate. And I'm into rough, sometimes violent sex. Whatever it takes to bring me off. Ain't nobody leaves my bed without a bruise or two or three. They take it because I don't give them any choice, but even more than that, they just expect it from a muscle stud like me. They expect me to be narcissistic and callous and I sure as hell live up to their expectations. And keep in mind that they love it; they love being roughed up and beg me for a repeat. Even Jamal, my massively muscled lieutenant whom I almost had a relationship with, gets knocked around when I fuck him. He's a top but occasionally loves bottoming for me. ------------- So alright, where was I? Oh yeah, Corey. I'm still lying in bed thinking about him and it's making me hot. "Kiante" I bellow, and two seconds later he's out of the top bunk and on his knees next to me. I flex my bicep for him, and he kisses it. I don't say anything, so he kisses it again and again and starts gently sucking and licking it. I let him go for a couple minutes really enjoying watching his pretty mouth worshiping my bulging arm, but then I put my hand behind his head and pulled him over onto my chest. He immediately starts kissing and licking up a storm. Hell, ain't nothing like waking up in the morning and having a slave worship your hot body and feed your vanity before you even get out of bed. An ego boost followed by a blowjob is definitely the way to start a day. "I gotta piss baby" I say to him and yes, I'll probably make him drink it sometime, but in the morning with so much stored up it ain't worth the trouble. I mean, I've done it before and they can never keep up and end up making a mess, so I pushed him away from my chest and dragged myself out of bed and went and took a piss. I was still hard when I went back and picked him up off the floor and carried him over to the table. Yeah, this is Davon, baby, and Kiante is like, tiny. I handle him like little girls handle their dolls. Putting him down on his back with his head hanging over the end, I pushed my crotch into his face. Without a word he started kissing it. Kissing up and down the length and then licking, just as he's been trained. After two weeks he was now my perfect slave boy, and he knew exactly what I expected of him in most every occasion. I was hard and hot and ready to go now, so I just pushed into his mouth and against his throat, and then pushed again forcing all ten inches into that delightfully wet hole. Pulling back and giving him time for a breath I pushed back in slowly, very slowly, watching his neck bulge out as my bludgeon forced its way into him and my balls pressed tight against his face. Pulling back, I did it again, even slower, enjoying the look of seeing the shape of my cock bulging out from his neck as I forced it into his throat. But I was hot and ready and just wanted a quick `start the morning out right' type of fuck, so instead of a slow face fuck, I flipped him around on the table and pushed his legs up. If he'd followed his training, and I know he had, he'd already prepared his ass last night just in case I wanted it this morning. So, I just pushed in and started fucking. Kiante was such a little guy, maybe only 5'7" and 130 pounds that I loved riding him around on my hard-on, so I grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him up onto my dick. Turning around with him sitting on my big boner I lifted him up and let him slowly slide back down sending sparks of pleasure shooting throughout my body. I lifted him up several times and let him slowly sink back down allowing my big truncheon to slide in and out of his tight little ass. Then almost crushing him to me, forcing his legs up against his chest, I started to speed up. Each time I lowered him onto by big shaft I'd ram my hips up to bang against him forcing my dick into its absolute maximum. I was walking around the cell as I was doing this, just playing with him like a little toy. "Ah Hum," I heard and looked up through the bars to see who it was. And there, standing at the bars, was Craig. For some reason, I guess because he was somebody I respected, I was immediately embarrassed that he was seeing me this way. "Hey, Craig. How's it hanging" I laughed, not knowing what else to say, and trying to brazen out my embarrassment. I mean, I was caught in the act so what was I supposed to say? Craig frowned at me and turned around and walked away, evidently royally pissed at seeing me like this. Shit! I'd been fantasizing about his muscle butt for ages now. I mean, that was part of the reason for coming to this cell block in the first place, because he was assigned here. Right now, I was too involved in a fuck to worry about it, but I knew I was going to have to face the music with Craig later. So, I kept bouncing Kiante up and down, giving myself exquisite feelings of pleasure. I'm not crazy about quickies and we still had fifteen minutes or so before breakfast, so I lifted Kiante off my prick and lay down on my bunk. "You do it, slave boy" I said, and he climbed on top of me, reached behind himself and grabbed my cock, and slowly forced his ass down on it. I put my hands behind my head and just watched him as he impaled himself over and over on my big boner. And damn was he good. After two weeks of total dedication to my cock he could almost feel my feelings and each and every movement was to maximize my pleasure. His little pecker was hard most of the time, but he was so focused on my cock and my pleasure that I'm not sure he was even aware of it. But he was concentrating so intently on my cock and on my pleasure that he forgot and had his eyes closed. I reached up and gave him a slap. "Open your eyes, slave boy" I growled at him. His eyes immediately shot open, like I'd shocked him out of a trance, which I guess I had, but he now looked me directly in the eye. "Sorry, master" he whispered. "Sorry." I rubbed my hand over his face and then stuck all four fingers into his mouth. Still concentrating on fucking himself on my cock, he started sucking on my fingers as well. "We've got ten minutes before breakfast, babe. Make it last and make it good." This is one of the hardest things to train in a kid. How to get into my head and feel what I'm feeling so they know exactly when to speed up or slow down and to just hold, while bringing me to my ejaculation at precisely the right moment. He's got to be aware of the slightest nuances in the feel of my cock, any body movements or contractions, or any subtle changes in facial expression. He's got to know instinctively what my intensity level is moment by moment so he can get me to the absolute peak of sensual pleasure and just hold it there, and hold it there, and hold it there until it's time to finally take me over the top. Actually, timing a ten-minute ejaculation is easy; it's the ninety minute or one hundred-twenty-minute ones that are hard. Every fuck boy I've ever had can show you bruises where he got punished for not being careful enough and bringing me off prematurely. I like getting a nice slow blowjob in the afternoon and when I say 120 minutes, I mean 120 minutes. Any fuck boy of mine who can't figure out how to give me what I want is going to get his ass kicked. Kiante was getting pretty damn good at this because he had my cock tingling but held back just enough so that I did not quite reach my climax. He just held me there for five minutes or so while my pleasure centers were going crazy, before he finally sped up his movements and took me into my ejaculation. Almost exactly ten minutes. I waited until the point of no return before I pushed him on his back and took over. Ramming into him as hard and fast as I could, getting loud squeals from him each time, I was shooting into his hot ass within ten or fifteen seconds. Then timing my thrusts with my ejaculations, I slammed into him shaking the bunk and probably the whole room, giving me incredibly exquisite feelings of glorious pleasure. Then I just flopped down on top of him. It was only a couple minutes later that the buzzer rang for breakfast, so I rolled over and let Kiante dive into my crotch and clean me up before we headed out. I skipped my usual late morning blowjob from Kiante in expectation of Corey showing up at any moment. However, it wasn't until after lunch that we finally heard that he wouldn't be transferred in until the next morning. So, I spent all afternoon lying on my bunk with my prick in Kiante's face fantasizing about what I was going to do with Corey and trying not to think about my problem with Craig. I mean, there ain't a hell of a lot to do in prison, so getting a three or four hour afternoon blowjob, or in this case, three or four blowjobs in an afternoon, was almost a daily event. I kept my eye out for Craig but the one and only time he came by he didn't even look in my direction. Okay, so he was pissed and no doubt it wasn't going to be easy calming the waters with him. But hell, this is Davon White, muscle stud. I found it hard to believe that I was actually figuring out how to get back on his good side, instead of just ripping off a hot fuck like I do with everybody else. This just wasn't my style. Besides, Craig had liked it. I'm pretty sure he liked getting fucked by me. In fact, I damn well know he liked it when I drilled it to him, and he should be here jumping all over me trying to get it again. But shit, I wanted to get my prick up that hot muscleman's ass again real bad, and I was willing to do almost anything to get it. Wasn't much I could do about it right now, so I just lay back and enjoyed Kiante's mouth. ------------- The kid still wasn't there after breakfast the next morning and I was beginning to wonder what was going on. I've told you about my temper, but I tried to keep myself in control and not explode. Not yet anyway. I told Bob, one of the guards, to tell Ralph to get his ass down here to talk to me. So, Kiante and I went to the weight room and started to workout. A half hour later Ralph stuck his head in and motioned to me. I'm often amazed at how stupid some of my minions can be. I mean, Ralph knew body building was my life and I put my heart and soul into it, so I'd never interrupt my work-out for him. But there he was with a nervous look on his face, acting like a total asshole. I knew he had bad news, but I refused to let it interfere with my workout, so I just ignored him and had Kiante pile on the weights and worked my tail off trying to burn off some of my excess energy. Somehow, I had to stay cool and collected. Ralph was waiting outside the door when I came out shirtless, totally pumped and soaking wet with sweat. "Not here, you stupid fuck" I growled as I deliberately pushed past him getting his dress shirt wet from my sweat. "Meet me at my cell." He got a horrified look on his face, but I ignored it and kept going. "Davon" he said in a wimpy submissive tone of voice. God, I hated lily-livered shits like this even though I suppose I was the one who made them this way. When I got to my cell, Ralph was tagging along behind me, but I just had Kiante get our stuff for our shower. "Get the fuck out of the way" I said to Ralph, as I rubbed against him again, getting him even wetter. "Be here when I get back." Ralph was totally under my thumb as you can see by the way I treat him. He was terrified of my enforcer Raylon who'd been to his house a few times and therefore terrified of me as well. I treated him like shit because I could, and I got a certain amount of pleasure out of it. He was a young, up and coming professional, but I constantly let him know he was no better than scum to be scraped off my shoes. "Okay, spit it out" I said to Ralph when I got back from my shower wearing only a towel, totally formidable with my massive, pumped muscles. He was standing outside my cell waiting although I noticed he'd changed his shirt and tie. I put my hand on his neck and pushed him into the cell and kept pushing until he was against the wall. "So, tell me where my new punk boy is, babe. Hmmm?" "Ahhh... Davon. Just calm down. It ain't the end of the world. I'm working on it." I still had my hand on his neck, but I wasn't squeezing it. "Working on what?" "Davon, please. I'm not saying anything more until you let me go." "God-damn little shit" I growled at him, but I dropped my hand and walked away. "So, tell me" I said from the other side of the cell. "Ahhh... Sarah got involved this morning and decided this kid was too young and vulnerable to be with the general prison population. She noticed that he was only eighteen and should have been sent to the Juvenile Justice Center." "Fuck Sarah and fuck the general prison population and fuck the Juvenile Justice Center. This is Davon White we're talking about here and you better not forget that." "Hey, I know it, Davon. I know, I know. I'm working on it. But Sarah's got the authority as prison psychologist. Even the Warden can't overrule her. She's already filled out the paperwork to send him to Justice." "You better listen up, babe" I said, as my anger was building up. "Jamal had to pull a whole lot of strings to get this kid for me, so you get him the fuck in here, and you get him in here now." I could feel my temperature rising and I was on the verge of exploding. "Hold on, Davon. Hold on. It's gonna happen. Listen to me, it's gonna happen. Just give me a couple hours and I'll handle it. I'm gonna make it happen, Davon." "How? Tell me what the fuck you're doing." "Sarah's report has already been misfiled and I had the kid sent back for additional orientation. Once they get through with that and get him checked in again, they'll come to me asking what to do with him. Then I'll assign him to you." "What about that bitch Sarah?" "She already left the building. But if she should find out I'll just say I didn't know her report was missing. But you know as well as I do that Sarah is so swamped that once she finishes a report, she never has time for a follow-up." "Shit, babe" I said as I took three deep breaths forcing myself to calm down. "Maybe I don't give you enough credit." Giving him a big smile, I walked over and gave him a few friendly slaps to the cheek. "My cock appreciates you so maybe I should try to appreciate you too." I reached down and groped myself through the towel, making sure Ralph saw the big lump there. Alright, so I was complimenting him and humiliating him at the same time. That's just my style. Ralph gave me a dirty look and started to walk away, but I grabbed his arm and jerked him back. "You keep on it and make sure it works, babe" I snapped at him. "You hear me, babe?" "Davon, please don't call me babe?" he pleaded. "Please. At least not in front of people." "Kiante ain't people, you stupid fuck" I snapped as I grabbed him by the neck and jerked him up in my face. "He's my fuck boy and I own him, and don't you fuckin forget I own you too, babe. Davon White owns you." Lifting him up on his tiptoes with one muscled arm, I raised my other arm and jammed my pit in his face. After shaking him a bit and rubbing my pit up and down I pushed him away almost knocking him on his ass. It was too damn bad I'd just showered because I would have loved seeing his face dripping with my sweat. "Now get the fuck out of here and get me my new boy-toy." I know I'm awfully rough with Ralph, but his cooperation cost me plenty in benefits, and his being such a wimp really pissed me off. It wasn't my original plan for the morning, but after Ralph left, I slammed Kiante up against the wall and fucked the shit out of him. He was going to have some new bruises, but it sure as hell relieved a lot of my frustrations. When Kiante and I came back from lunch Ralph was there waiting for me. "He's here Davon. He was cleared through about a half hour ago." I just grunted at him and walked on past. "Davon, please, just a minute" he said so I stopped and turned around. "I know you're in the last cell, and kind of away from everybody, but would you be careful and try to take it easy with this kid. I mean, he's supposed to be at Justice and if they find out we kept him here we'll both be in trouble." "Fuck you, babe" I said and headed on towards my cell. "Please, Davon. Just go easy. Please." When I entered the cell, the kid was sitting on my chair looking at a magazine. I unzipped my coveralls as I walked in showing my massive chest so when the kid looked up, he got a vision of a body like he could only imagine in his wildest dreams. Not only did his eyes get enormous but his mouth dropped open in shock as I walked up to him. Grabbing him by the hair I jerked him to his feet getting a scream from him which was immediately cut short when I slammed him in the stomach. I held him there for a couple seconds until he got his feet under him, and then grabbed his prison t-shirt by the collar and ripped it down the front. I didn't hold him up this time when I slammed into his stomach again, so he flew back landing on his butt. He was holding his stomach and looking at me in shock as I stepped over to him. Grabbing his neck, I pulled him back to his feet. "Don't you ever sit in my chair again" I growled menacingly into his face. And then I hit him in the neck with my fist, and down he went again. He just lay there stunned although I hadn't hit him all that hard. But you gotta understand that with the muscles I've got and my incredible strength, I've got to be careful how I treat my chattel. I brag about beating the shit out of them all the time, but in fact I'm very careful and only use about half my strength. "Kiante, put him in the single" I said. Kiante went over and took hold of his arm, but Corey jerked himself loose and got to his feet. He was a whole lot bigger than Kiante, but I knew Kiante would take him on because when I tell Kiante to do something, you better believe he'll do it. Corey was bigger but I knew Kiante was well versed in down and dirty street fighting. I had to smile; this would be interesting. But rather than jumping him, Kiante just pointed to the bed, giving Corey a chance to follow the instruction. "master says get in the single" he said as he pointed. "Move your white ass." Corey had one hand on his neck and the other on his stomach, evidently not sure which hurt the most, but he wasn't in any position to have a fight, even with a little guy like Kiante. He slowly walked over and sat on the bed as Kiante glared at him. What a disappointment. I was kinda hoping they would get into it. I would have loved watching them fight over me. "He said in, not on" Kiante growled as he walked over and stood next to the bed, daring Corey not to follow the instruction. "In" he repeated. Corey just looked at him. He was still hurting and didn't seem to even understand what Kiante was saying. Kiante slapped him across the face and grabbed his legs, lifting them up forcing Corey to lie on the bed. "Baby faced white piece of trash" he snapped as he stepped away. And I had to laugh. I couldn't help it because clearly, Kiante was jealous. Yeah, he was. He was jealous, and I loved it. Maybe I'd set something up to have them fight over me. That would be fun. So, anyway, that was my introduction to Corey. Or I should say this was Corey's introduction to Davon White, his new master. The kid was every bit as cute as I'd been told although he was bigger and huskier than I expected. He was bigger than any of the young men I'd been fucking over the years. He had big square pecs and rippling abdominals where I'd torn the shirt open, so he'd been working out and taking care of himself. I could appreciate a kid, a wrestler and a football player, who kept himself clean and took care of his body. He just had this crazy fixation of wanting to rape older women. There was shock showing in his face, as he looked over at me, but no fear yet as far as I could tell, so I knew I still had a way to go. "Why'd you do that to me?" he croaked hoarsely, his throat still hurting. "What'd I ever do to you?" I had removed my coveralls, so I was wearing only a wife beater and my bikini underwear, so my muscles were now showing in all their glory. He was a budding bodybuilder himself so I know he could appreciate what it took for me to look like this. He knew something about muscle, so with some more of my training under his belt I figured he was going to be quite a muscle boy, and an appreciator of my muscle. And yeah, I'm addicted to muscle worship. I'm wildly in love with these massive muscles of mine and I make sure my boys are wildly in love with them too. Having a kid spend an entire afternoon tonguing every inch of my hot body is something really special. Giving him a friendly grin, I walked over and grabbed his neck with one big paw and pulled him up off the bunk. He was not quite sitting and not quite standing as I held him there with one muscular arm. "I hit you because I wanted to" I said, grinning at him. "And you open your mouth again, you call me sir." With that I gave him an open-handed slap to the face, followed by a back-hand. I dropped him back on the bed and went to make a call to Jamal. The kid rolled over away from me, facing the wall. I heard him sniffling for a while and then I think he dozed off. I wasn't in any great hurry even though he was lying on his side showing me that hot ass of his. After I finished my call, I lay down on my bunk and got Kiante's mouth on my prick and just relaxed. I wanted Corey but there was no need to rush it since I had Kiante here. Besides, that kid was going to be around here for months, so I was going to get a whole lot of cock action from him. I actually dozed off myself after a bit and had a most wonderful dream of getting my cock sucked by muscle stud Craig. The dream turned out to be only partially true when I woke up because, yes, I was being sucked but Craig was nowhere to be seen. My cock was as hard as a rock, so I flipped Kiante over, climbed on top, and started fucking his face. Or rather, I grabbed him by the ears and made his face fuck me. Kiante was a pretty good cocksucker and could take a lot of abuse, so I fucked his face sometimes gently, and sometimes brutally, for probably a half hour before I shot a load down his throat. So, I got my rocks off and was in a good mood and ready to get back to work on Corey. When I walked over to him, he heard me and turned over to face me. I noticed he'd changed his shirt from the one I ripped. I just stood there for a moment looking down at him, my hands on my hips with an arrogant look on my face. I still was wearing only a white bikini and a white tank, so my massively muscled body and the big lump in my bikini had to be totally frightening to him. "Please, man. I ain't done nothin to you" he entreated, and I think I saw fear in his face. I loved hearing the `please' and loved seeing the fear, because once he feared me enough, it'd be all downhill from there on. I reached down and grabbed his shirt by the collar and ripped it down the front again. Grabbing his neck and roughly pulling him up, I spit in his face and just glared at him. He didn't say anything, but he was shocked and terrified, and I could feel him shaking with fear. Yeah, now. Now he was showing fear. "You don't do anything in this cell without my permission" I said softly as I gave his head and upper body a shake. "You don't talk without my permission. You don't even move without my permission. Got that?" Not getting an immediate answer, I gave him a slap and now I saw real fear in his face. "GOT THAT?" I shouted. "Yeah, I got it. Jesus, man. Please, I got it." I backhanded him. "Sir" was all I said. "Sir" he repeated. "I say anything to you, you always answer `yes, sir'." "Yes, sir" he croaked, visibly shaking now. "Get up and strip" I said as I stepped back. "Let me see what I've got." The fear was still showing on his face, but now I could see the beginning of tears as well. It was sinking into him that he'd never run into anyone like me before and he probably thought I was deranged, but deranged or not, he knew he was in big trouble. I honestly didn't know if he'd get up or not, since we were in the early stages of his training, and I knew he needed more punishment before he really learned to fear me. I also had to remind myself that he was only eighteen, just a kid. But I didn't give a damn because I don't make allowances for kids, and I was prepared to keep beating on him until he turned the corner and accepted my dominance over him. "Get-up-and-strip" I enunciated slowly and distinctively. "NOW" I yelled. "Please, man" he whimpered. "Please." Saying `please' wasn't good enough, because he wasn't obeying me, so I grabbed him by the neck, jerked him to his feet and let him have it in the stomach knocking the wind out of him. He let out a `oof' and put his hands to his aching stomach, so I let him have one in the chest, right in the sternum. He made a weird croaking sound since he still hadn't regained his breath from when I hit him in the stomach, so he couldn't even yell. He still had his hands over his stomach, so I hit him again in the chest again. His legs went all wobbly now and even as strong as I am, holding a 180-pound kid at arm's length with one hand is not practical, so I hit let him drop to the floor. I went back to the phone to see what was going on with Jamal. As he lay there, he was groaning softly, but he wasn't moving. After I finished my call, I just sat there playing with myself through my shorts as I watched him. Shit, he was pretty. Pretty face, and muscular body. I mean a real hunk. I couldn't help but fantasize about all the fun I was going to have with him once I got him fully trained. As he began to recover, he suddenly threw up next to the bed. He evidently didn't have much in his stomach because it was mostly clear liquid and spit. "Kiante, clean that up" I ordered. Kiante still hadn't moved from my bed since I'd fucked him, evidently afraid to do anything without my permission, but now he jumped up and got a washcloth. "Get cold water and wash his face" I said after he'd cleaned up the floor. Kiante dutifully did as he was told, and Corey didn't object. He was still on the floor and hadn't completely recovered yet, but he was getting there, and I was hot to go on. I mean, sitting there fantasizing about what I was going to do with him and stroking my now fully hard prick was almost more than I could take. I wanted to fuck him, and I wanted to do it now. I got up and walked over to him and rubbed my bare foot over his face. "Pretty baby" I said with a smirk on my face. "Master had to punish our baby because he was a bad boy" I said in sing-songy baby talk. I crouched down and took his chin in my hand. "Are you going to be a good boy now? Huh, Corey? You going to be a good boy?" "Please" he croaked. "Please." "Tell me you're going to be a good boy, Corey" I said softly but sternly as I held on to his chin. "Say it, little man. Don't make me angry again. Say you're going to be a good boy." "I'm going to be a good boy" he mumbled barely above a whisper. "Good boy" I said giving him a grin. "Now tell your master you're going to do what he says. Go ahead." "I'm going to do what you say" he mumbled, and I knew we'd passed another hurdle. Maybe he wasn't totally alert, but he was agreeing to do whatever I said to keep from being hurt. Fear will do wonderful things to a kid. "Sir" I said. "Sir" he repeated. "Get up" I said as I stood up in front of him. "Up on your knees." Very slowly he forced himself up onto his knees. As he got up, I pushed my thumb into his mouth. "Suck" I said, and he did what he was told. He started sucking on my thumb. "Look at me when you suck. Look me in the eye. I like my cocksucker's looking at me when they suck me." Damn, he was pretty. Damned beautiful. He wasn't crying now but tears were streaming down his cheeks as he sucked and looked up at me. And there was no question about that look on his face: he was terrified of me. "You are a beautiful kid, Corey" I said giving him a big smile, which he probably thought was an evil smile, because he was now beginning to understand that I was getting a lot of enjoyment out of hurting him. I mean, hell, you gotta understand that I must take a kid through this in order to train him to respect me and fear me. It's got to be done, but there ain't nothing wrong with me getting a certain amount of satisfaction out of doing it. Hell, since I've got to do it anyway, I might as well enjoy it. Seeing the transition of a kid like Corey as he moves gradually from being an arrogant spoiled brat into my servile groveling cocksucker is something to behold. Ain't nothing quite like it, and yeah, I love the shit out of it. "You and me going to do wonderful things together, Corey. Starting right now." "Now, like I said before. Strip. Get naked for me." Obviously still in pain, he slowly pulled off the tatters of his shirt and tossed them aside. I said he was a beauty, and man was he ever; a big muscle boy football player. I reached down and grabbed my prick through my bikini and started stroking it, and when he looked up from taking off his shoes his eyes were drawn to it. "M... m... m... man..." he mumbled in fear. "The pants" I ordered "and answer `yes sir' before I kick your ass." "Yes, sir, (gulp). Yes, sir." Unbuckling his belt, he pulled his pants down and off. So, I had me a cute white teenager to work with, a built one, standing there in just his boxers. Probably close to six feet tall and one hundred eighty pounds of good solid muscle. No question about it, this kid was going to be really special. This was going to be magic. "You into muscle, boy?" I asked. "You like big black muscle?" I grabbed my tank and jerked it off, and then performed a double bicep pose. "Pretty damn hot hey? What's this do for you?" "Ahhh... man. Ahhh..." "Sir" I growled at him. "Sir" he said. "Yes, sir." "Now answer my question. You like these big muscles." "Hey, man... ah... sir. Um, sir. Ahhh.... you. You are amazing, but I ain't.... ahhh... I ain't into guys. Sir." "Oh no? I'll bet you spend hours in front of a mirror admiring your body, don't you boy? Pretty body like yours? You love looking at yourself? Yeah?" Moving from the double bicep pose, I performed the most muscular, sucking in my gut and forcing my abs into tightly contoured ridges. "Now you got something better to look at, babe. A real superman. A big black hunk of muscle, and you're going to learn to love every inch of it. Your new black master, baby." Grabbing hold of my bikini underwear, I pulled them down and off, allowing my prick to pop up. "Take off your shorts, babe" I said. He just stood there staring at me, either mesmerized by my muscles or by my cock. Didn't matter which because he was going to be giving both this body and this dick a whole lot of attention real soon. "TAKE OFF YOUR FUCKIN SHORTS" I shouted. His fear showing again, he grabbed them and pulled them down and off. And he did have a hard on, or at least partially hard; looked to be a hefty seven inches. So, maybe I was right that although he may have been straight, he seemed to be turned on to muscle. Hey, ain't no surprise because body builders are always checking out bigger guys; huge guys like me. I noticed that he'd gone white with beads of sweat on his forehead and was shaking. He was no idiot. With my growing prick almost in his face, he knew damn well what was going to happen. I stepped over to him and grabbed his hand and pulled it up to my left pectoral. "Feel this, babe. Feel a real man's chest." He tried to pull his hand back, but I held him there. "Wha'da'ya think, babe. Damn hot hey?" "Don't, man" he said and started jerking his hand and pulled it out of my grip. I gave him a good slap to the face. "Put you hand back on my chest" I said menacingly and waited. It took a few seconds for him to come to his senses, but that slap hurt so he put his hand back on my pec, so I didn't have to hit him again. Hey, don't start thinking I'm some kind of monster here, and don't think I get an overabundance of pleasure out of beating up on kids. Okay, so yeah, that's a lie. It does give me a lot of pleasure working them over, but I've got a purpose here. I'm being a teacher, but I don't have a lot of patience to work with him, so he's got to learn damn quick. I'm teaching him respect, which he obviously needs. I don't give a shit if he respects anybody else, but he's sure as hell going to respect me, his new master, and he's going to learn to respect me today. My technique works and I know from experience that he'll learn fast when there's punishment involved. And one other thing: punishment is not effective if it doesn't hurt, so I make damn sure it hurts. "Feel that hot chest, baby. Rub your hand over that slab of muscle." He was still slow on the uptake, so he wasn't completely trained yet, but I'd knock that out of him by tomorrow. But he started to feel my big pec just as I told him. "Gooood boy" I said with a chuckle dragging out the sound. "Get a good feel." He rubbed his hand over my right pec because he had to, but hell, he had to be amazed by the feel of its size and hardness. By tomorrow he'd jump at the chance to touch me, and would accept my superiority without question, so then we'd get into some serious muscle worship. "Kiss it, baby" I ordered as I put a hand behind his head and pulled him in, pressing his nose against my left pec. "Kiss it. Worship it with your mouth." No delay and no question this time, because he immediately kissed my pec. "All over, baby. Kiss every inch of that slab of muscle." Okay, so we had a start on obedience training, but I didn't spend all this time just to get him to kiss my chest. I had a better idea of where he could use his mouth. Grabbing him by the shoulders I forced him to his knees. "You know what I want, babe?" I asked sweetly as I grabbed hold of my almost fully hard boner. "Oh, man, please." He said still, crying and sniffling as he looked up in my face, trying to ignore what I had in my hand. "You do know what I want, babe" I said giving him a smile. "I want a blowjob, and you're going to give me one." I know I go too fast in my training program at this point, but I get so horny that I can't be patient. So, right now it was decision time for him. He'd either accept my dominance and do it, or I'd have to knock him around some more and get to it later. If I had to wait until tomorrow, he'd be a whole lot worse for wear, but the end result would be the same. "You're going to blow me now, or you'll blow me later, but you will blow me. I'm going to kick the shit out of you until you do." He kept looking at my face but couldn't help glancing down to see what I was playing with. And it was really something to see, big and fat and over ten fuckin inches long. But, given time I knew Corey, just like all my boys, wouldn't be able to resist it. Holding my prick in one hand I grabbed a handful of hair with the other and pulled him in close. "You try to pull away, baby, I'll break you in half. Now just sniff it. Get a whiff of your master's prick." He looked up at me, but I just glowered at him. And then he took a sniff. "Good big sniff. I want to hear it." He took another sniff, louder. "Good boy" I said giving him a big smile. This was so fuckin hot. I love this shit. Another disciple to add to my collection. "Okay, now kiss it. Just the head" I said. "Nice sweet, gentle kiss." He looked up at me, fear still showing in his face, hoping for some compassion from me, but he wasn't going to find it. "Kiss it, babe. You know you're going to, so do it now." And he did. He leaned forward and gave my big rod a light kiss. "Good job, babe. That's it. Your master likes it. Now, do it some more." He didn't react when I said `master' but he did lean in and give my prick another kiss. "Yeah, that's it. Real passionate kisses, babe. Show me you love kissing your master's prick." Maybe it wasn't done with passion, not yet anyway, but he did kiss the head a few more times. "Okay, now all over. Cover that beautiful prick with your kisses." "Ahhh... man. Please don't" he whispered softly, barely audible, and backed away. I took a quick breath to control myself because I wanted to hit him. Just as I'm getting comfortable and beginning to enjoy his willingness to serve me, he backs off. I couldn't abide this sort of obstinance, and it really hit me wrong. I was angry. Grabbing him by the chin and the hair, I dragged him to his feet, pulling his face within inches of my angry one. I shook him violently. "You little piece of shit, you'll do what I want, or I will break you in half. You don't fuck with me, ever." His eyes were open wide in shock and there was terror showing in his face. He could see I was furious. I shook him violently again. "Tell me you're sorry." "I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry" he burst out in one breath. "Please, sir, I'm sorry." "Now get it through your stupid little head that you're going to suck my dick and you're going to do it now. You're going to do it if I have to tear you apart." "Please, man. Please" he whimpered. Still holding his hair, I let go of his chin and gave him a good backhanded clout to the face. "Tell me you're ready to suck my dick" I growled at him. "Tell me." The intense fear was still there but now there were tears dripping down his cheeks. "Tell me, you little shit." "Please, sir. Please" he moaned, really crying now. "I'm... I'm... I'm ready." I pushed him back to his knees and put my hands on my hips and just glared at him without saying a word. He glanced up at my face and saw my intense anger as the tears streamed down his face. And then he leaned forward and started kissing up and down my hard pole. I didn't say a word for at least five minutes while I watched him kissing my dick. He kept glancing up at me wondering if it was okay and waiting for further direction. Finally, I reached down, pushed my thumb in his mouth and followed it with my dick. He took it as if he'd been born to it. Training a kid like this is good for both of us. Really. For him, he learns almost immediately what is expected of him, that if he is totally dedicated and focused on serving me, he can avoid the punishment. As for me, I have a dedicated servant who will do anything at my command without question. I mean, if I do it right, I only have to train a kid once. "Suck on it and lick the head with your tongue" I ordered him. He only had the tip in his mouth, but I knew that was a big step for him, so I just let him go at it until he got comfortable doing it. After five or ten minutes, I grabbed his hair gently and backed over to my bunk and sat down, forcing him to crawl along with me while keeping my dick in his mouth. Giving him another really good look I was totally impressed. What a hunk, and only eighteen years old. Big body, big muscles, pretty face, he was special. He was going to be my best fuck boy ever. Pushing his head back, I lay down on my bunk. "Get between my legs, boy" I said. I noticed as he climbed on the bed that his dick seemed to be almost completely hard. Really! I was surprised, almost shocked. Was this kid a masochist? Was he maybe gay? It seemed unlikely, but there it was. Hell, this was going to be even better than I thought. He looked up at me and I just looked back. He waited for a while, thirty seconds or so, wondering if I was going to tell him what to do. Even though I wasn't showing any anger, he realized he'd better make the first move, so he leaned down and took my prick back in his mouth. Nirvana! Now that's what Davon White's training does for a kid. This kid knew what he had to do, and he did it. Of course, he knew I was going to slug him any minute if he didn't, but that's the whole idea. A slave must fear punishment, and even without direction, has to figure out what to do to avoid that punishment. I've always said I want my slaves and fuck boys to be obedient, but that's only half of it because they must also be constantly focused on me and my pleasure, and ready to do whatever it takes to satisfy me. "Good boy" I said with a smile as I put one hand behind his head to hold him, and just for the hell of it, rammed my crotch up into his face, forcing my dick impossibly deep into his throat. He immediately went into some kind of convulsions, coughing and choking and wheezing. I only had my cock there for a split second before I pulled back and then did it again, jamming it all the way into his esophagus. Then I just let go of him and watched as he raised his head while coughing and choking with phlegm spurting out of his mouth and nose. Alright, so I can be a son-of-a-bitch sometimes and I know this wasn't fair, but he belonged to me now, I owned him, and I'd do any fucking thing I wanted with him. As he slowly began to recover, he looked up at me seeing my big smile. "Yeah, baby, you gonna fall in love with this big pecker" I chuckled. I reached up and patted his cheek a couple times. "Having my beautiful black dick in your mouth gonna be your favorite pastime." He was still gasping and choking, and tears were streaming down his face, and I have to admit, I was loving it. Hey, this is my game; this is what I do, and I love doing it. I take kids down and turn them into my personal possessions, my very own cocksucking pussy boys. Hell, what's not to love. One of the most gorgeous kids I'd ever had on my dick was between my legs right now with a look of total terror on his face, and that look of total terror was an invitation to my cock for unlimited gratification. Let me tell you, you ain't lived until you've owned a perfectly gorgeous young stud of your own. "Look at me, baby" I said. He was still breathing fast and heavy but had mostly recovered. "Look me in the eye." The terror was still showing but now I think he'd added total despair to his look. He now realized that his case was hopeless with no recourse but to accept my total domination. I put one hand around his neck, not choking him, but just holding him steady so he had to look me in the face and see my smile. "You're mine now, baby. You belong to me. Big hot muscle stud like me, you are fuckin lucky. Davon White only fucks the best, baby, so you know you're special." "So, I want to hear a thank you, babe. You gonna thank me for making you my fuck boy." Still grinning in his face, I gave him a good shake. "Say it boy. Say it." "Ahhh...." he barely whispered. "Ahhh.... thank you." "Good boy. Now say it louder and call me master. Go on, say it." He cleared his throat and then spoke slightly louder. "Ahhh... thank you, ahhh.... master." "Good boy. We're on a roll here, baby. Now repeat after me. `Thank you master for making me your fuck boy'. Go ahead. Say it." "Ahhh...., please" he whispered. "SAY IT" I shouted at him and gave him another good shake. "Thank you master for making me your fuck boy." "Thank you master for making me your fuck boy" he said softly. "Okay, fuck boy" I said with glee. "Time to show me what you've got. You ever get a blowjob?" "Ahhh... yeah." "Of course you have. Every kid's had a blowjob. So, get busy and show me how it's done." Still holding his neck, I pulled him down to my crotch. At the last second, I stopped him and grabbing my fully hard cock with my other hand and rubbed the tip against his nose and lips. "Get your mouth around it, baby. Do it right and don't piss me off." As I let go of him, he reached for my cock. "No hands" I directed as I slapped them away. So, he took the head in his mouth and started licking and sucking on it. God, he was gorgeous. Really muscular body and beautiful face with my big black whanger stuffed in his mouth. "Look at me, babe" I said, and he twisted his face up and looked at me. Shit, what a turn-on. I felt a surge shoot through me just from seeing that pretty face, with his mouth stretched around my dick and tears streaming down. Let me tell you there ain't nothing more beautiful than my big black dick stuffed into a pretty white boy's mouth. Hell, I was almost ready to cum. "Take some more, babe" I ordered as I put my hand behind his head and pushed gently. From only two inches he now had about four, but I was so fuckin turned on that I was almost ready to shoot. Corey seemed to know what he was doing as he sucked and kept his tongue moving giving me delicious feelings of satisfaction. Then he shocked me by taking another inch or so on his own, compressed my dick hard with his lips and doubled the intensity of his sucking. He only had about half of my ten inches in his mouth, but he was doing impressive things with his tongue. If he was really a beginner, he was pretty damn amazing. Getting sucked by a virgin and perhaps the huskiest young kid I'd ever had, took me over the top. I started shooting into his mouth. "Shiiiiiiit" I yelled as I fired burst after burst into him. Corey was still sucking up a storm and seemed to be swallowing my cum as fast as I was shooting it into him. I kept my eyes on his face, and I swear to God, he was enjoying it. At least he wasn't hating it. "Oh man that was good" I wheezed as I started to calm down. Corey was still sucking as I reached down and pulled his head up allowing my cock to pull out of his mouth. "Baby, that was one hell of a blowjob for a beginner." And I swear I saw a glimmer of a smile on his face, and then it hit me. This kid was no beginner. "I'll be damned" I said in amazement. "You ain't no beginner at this, boy. You've definitely sucked cock before, haven't you? Hmmm? Tell me, baby." "Ahhh.... Ahhh...." "Shit, I knew it. You're a cocksucker. So, tell me. Whose cock you been sucking?" I grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look into my eyes. "Tell me, boy." "Ahhh... man..." "Don't start getting bad habits, boy" I said as I gave his head a shake. "You call me master." "Yes, master." "I hear you like fucking old ladies. That's what you're in here for isn't it? Isn't it?" "Ahhh... yes, master. I ahhh... I ahhh... " "Well, spit it out, boy. Whose cock you been sucking?" "Ahhh... master. It's... it's a long story." "We're in prison, baby. Remember? I think we got time." And did Corey ever have a story to tell and what a fucked-up story it was. ♦♦♦ It turns out he's been sucking dick since he was twelve years old. It seems that his older brother, his father and his uncle had been using him as a cum dump for years with his mother's approval. His mother told him that in the Eastern European country they came from, it was his obligation as the youngest boy in the family. Is this a fucked-up family or what? Hell, I thought I was fucked up with my rape fixation but I ain't nothing compared to Corey's family. "I hated my mother" Corey said softly. I had put on a pair of jockeys and moved to my chair with both Kiante and Corey sitting on the floor in front of me. While Corey's story was totally weird, it was also kinda hot so I couldn't help but keep one hand on my crotch, keeping myself about half hard. "I really hate her. If she'd had a dick, I know she would have been fucking me too. She's a total bitch." Just telling the story was getting Corey steamed up. He was red in the face and shaking with anger. "So, what's this got to do with you fucking older women?" I asked. "In front of their kids?" "I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to get even. I sort of went crazy one day when I saw a woman who looked exactly like my mother. I mean, exactly. They coulda been twins. I just couldn't help myself as I followed her home and raped her in her living room. Her little kids were there but I didn't even care. I just wanted to hurt her. I wanted to rape her. "After that I was looking for women who looked like my mother, and when I found one, I raped the shit out of her. The kids? I don't know. Somehow, it just made it hotter and made the ejaculation better. I was thinking of my mom every second while I was fucking them." Is this kid fucked up or what? Oh man, he is totally screwed. "So, you been sucking off your brother, your dad, and your Uncle. How come you're so bad at it? You gave me a lousy blowjob." "Ahhh... I hated it. I hated doing it. I hated them for making me. All they really wanted was to humiliate me anyway. And besides, I ain't never seen nobody with a dick as big as yours. My brother was biggest, and he wasn't half as big as you." "Don't you forget your place, Corey" I barked at him. "You call me master, or I kick your ass." "Sorry, master. Sorry. But I just get so mad. And I ain't never told nobody this before. You're the first. Ahhh... master." "So, you suck dick. You gay?" "Huh." "I asked you a question ding-bat. You gay?" "Ahhh... I ahhh... I mean.... I ahhh... no. I mean no." "So, you are, hey? You had to think about it too long, babe. So, you're a faggot." "Ahhh... man. I mean master. I ahhh...." "It's okay babe. Lots of faggots around here. I own faggots. Kiante here is my faggot and now you." "Hey, I don't know, master" Corey answered. "I don't think... I ahhh... I don't think I'm gay." "If you're thinking it, baby, you're gay" I said with a laugh. "But no matter. We'll figure that out because you gonna get a whole lot of practice while you're deciding." "Ahhh... but..." "Okay, so you suck dick" I said. "You ever get fucked?" "Ahhh... master. Ahhh..." I didn't say anything, but just waited for him to continue. "Not very often" he said softly. "I'll take that as a yes" I laughed. "And let me tell you, baby, you've got a treat coming. Until you been fucked by Davon White you ain't never been fucked. Getting it from me is a whole different world, baby. You're going to think your ass is virgin once I shove my big boner into you." "Hey, man... ahhh... master. I ahhh..." "Hey, baby, I hear your story, but that don't change nothing. You still online to be my new fuck boy. It just means you probably gonna like it a whole lot more than the straight boys. Get over here." "Ahhh... master..." I stood up just enough to reach over and grab a handful of Corey's hair and drag him off his butt and onto his knees, pulling his face into my crotch. He let out a screech as I dragged him over. "Baby, everybody's got a sob story to tell, but I'm still your master and you're still my slave boy. Maybe you hated doing your family, but, baby, you gonna learn to love doing this big whanger of mine. Now, get in there and get to work." I'd been keeping myself about half hard, which still made one hell of a bulge in my shorts. I dragged Corey's face up and down and back and forth a couple times to give him a good feel of its' hardness. "Chew on it, baby. Chew on it." Now I could recognize that Corey was experienced as he started biting my prick gently and sucking up and down its' length. "Get it wet, baby. Get it wet" I ordered, and Corey started to wet my shorts with saliva as he sucked on it. Yeah, he knew what he was doing, and my cock knew it too. Within a minute or two it was fully hard and raring to go. "Baby" I said. "You gonna get a whole lot of practice sucking on a real man's cock, but right now I'm gonna take that fine ass of yours. Kiante, get the cream." "Yes, master" Kiante said as he got up and went to my bunk to get the cream. I pushed Corey's head back and stood up with my crotch right in his face. "Pull them down, slave boy. Get another look at this beautiful weapon of mine." Without hesitation, Corey grabbed my Jockey's and pulled them down allowing my cock to slap up against my belly. "Kiss it, baby" I said, grinning down at him as he looked at my enormous dick in amazement. Hell, I was used to this, because each and every time a kid got another look at my dick, they seemed to think it had somehow gotten even more monstrous from what they remembered from the previous time. "Nice soft kisses, baby. Worship your master's dick." Corey started gently kissing my dick from one end to the other. "That's it, baby. Don't just kiss it, worship it. Worship that big monster, baby. Make love to it." And Corey really was worshiping it. I could see it in his eyes. He was treating it like God's gift to humanity, and he was privileged to be able to give homage. Now that's the way a slave should treat his master. That's the kind of dedication in a slave I'm always searching for, and it was looking like Corey was going to be special; maybe the best ever. Not a single thought in his head except total devotion to his master's prick combined with eagerness and intensity and complete veneration. We were going to have to explore Corey's cocksucking abilities over the next few days, but right now my cock was going to get a taste of that ass. Grabbing him by the neck and the ass I pulled him up and over my lap. "You got a pretty little ass here, baby. Almost as pretty as Kiante's" I said as I started squeezing and massaging his cheeks. "We'll get you out in the sun, baby, and get that ass of yours all nice and brown, just the way my big prick likes `em." I gave his right ass cheek a hefty swat, getting a yelp out of him. "I don't like milky white asses, baby, so a red ass is going to have to do for now." I gave his other cheek a swat getting another yelp. I've told you, as well as my boys being hunky and pretty, I like them brown; light brown or dark brown, but brown. Hispanics turn me on and so do white boys with dark tans and no tan lines, but black boys with pretty brown asses are the best. I'll have Jamal get some tanning cream for Corey. Alright, so I'm picky about how my boys look. Hell, I'm Davon White for god's sake. I can afford to be picky. "Lick his ass, Kiante. Get in there and loosen him up." Kiante put the tube of cream down and shoved his face into Corey's ass. "Lots of saliva, baby. Get it wet and get him ready." Kiante used his hands to pull Corey's cheeks apart and pushed his face in, flooding the crack with saliva and sticking his tongue into the hole. I put my hand on the back of his head and pushed, encouraging him to go deep. "Get in there" I ordered. "Open that hole with your tongue." I had one hand on Corey's neck holding him over my lap, as I pulled Kiante head away with the other. "Getting you ready, slave boy. Getting that hot ass of yours ready for a real man's prick." Then I gave him two more slaps on the ass, once on each cheek. "Yeaoh" Corey squealed and tried to push himself away, but no way could he compete with the strength of my arm. "Please, master." "Just getting you warmed up, baby" I said, holding him tight by the neck. I gave him two more swats. "Back at it, Kiante" I said as I pushed Kiante's face back into the ass crack. I guess those swats must have hurt because Corey was crying again. He probably was not going to be able to sit down for a while, but this fuck was going to be special. Really special. Special for me because he was the hunkiest, huskiest slave boy I'd ever fucked, and special for him because he was getting it for the first time from the hottest black stud in the state. A hot stud master who knew how to bring a new slave boy into the world of fervent ass fucking. This fuck was something I wanted him to remember as exceptional, maybe for the rest of his life, and if he got a few blisters along the way, that was just going to make it more memorable. Pushing Kiante's head back again I gave Corey two more swats, now turning his ass a beautiful shade of bright red. Then I stuck a finger in his hole and wiggled it a bit. "Still pretty tight, Kiante. Get some more saliva in there." Kiante hacked up some saliva and stuck his face back into Corey's ass and forced it into the hole with his tongue. "Jam that tongue in there, baby" I said giving him a swat on the back of the head. "Get in there deep." "Okay, that's enough" I said finally as I picked Corey up and carried him over to the single bed. He was still crying softly, but he'd forget all about that in the next couple minutes because I decided to forgo the cream and just go with the saliva. I wanted this one to be special and using just saliva would make for a tighter fit for me, and Corey was going to learn that although it may feel painful to him, it was the passion of his master, Davon White, that really counted. He would learn that a little pain on his part was a requirement for the awesome privilege of getting my enormous prick rammed up into his tight little buns. Getting fucked by a god with a magnificent black dick like mine is something to be treasured and revered and savored no matter the pain and suffering. It took time, but eventually every slave boy I'd ever trained accepted the fact that it was an honor to be allowed to serve Davon White, and they thrived on idolizing me and worshiping every inch of my incredible body no matter how demanding I was. They also understood that a muscle master as stunning as me might be a little arrogant and have stringent requirements for sexual gratification that many times might require a bit of suffering from them. Hey, I don't believe in torture, but sometimes I can be so demanding that it's hard to tell the difference. But any suffering that a kid goes through is insignificant and ultimately gratifying to him, because just the thrill of being allowed to grovel at Davon White's feet and treat him like a god as he demands, more than makes up for any possible anguish. Davon White is a God, and yes, it is an honor to be allowed to serve. Corey would learn that getting Davon's cock up his ass was an event to be cherished. Pushing his legs up in the air and spreading them wide, I let a wad of spit drop directly on his ready hole. Then, Duane putting one hand over his mouth to muffle his screams. I took aim and pushed, hard. My experience has shown that getting the worst of the pain over immediately makes it slightly easier later on, so in two seconds I forced the bulbous head of my massive prick into his hole, stretching it to enormous proportions and then just held it there. Of course, he was screaming, but it was well muffled by my hand. I mean, hell, I didn't want the whole prison outside my cell trying to see who I was fucking today. He was panting, and howling and crying but I just stayed there, not moving for a minute or two giving him a chance to adjust. Then, to be super understanding, I pulled my prick all the way back out. He stopped the noise but was panting wildly and still crying. I gave him almost a minute to recover before I took aim again and pushed back in. He howled almost as loud as the first time, and it probably hurt about as much because his ass had never been opened up like it was being opened right now. It felt even better for me than the first time because it was still squeezing the shit out of my cock. I gave him a good thirty seconds this time before I pushed in a couple more inches, using a lot of pressure because it was still damn snug in there. Yeah, we'd put a lot of saliva in him, but this ass never knew it could open up wide enough to take a monster prick like mine. And let me tell you it felt fabulous. "Stop screaming, baby" I said softly to Corey. "That's enough noise.' I gave him a moment, but he didn't stop. "I said stop it, baby. You're pissing me off." He still was crying aloud so I lifted my hand from his mouth for a second and gave him a clout to the face shocking him into temporary silence. "I said stop screaming" I snapped and slapped him again. Now he did stop, but he was sobbing like crazy. He was mumbling and begging, saying `please stop' over and over but at this point I wasn't paying any attention. "Shut the fuck up" I growled as I rammed a couple more inches into him. That got a screech out of him, but only one, so I leaned down and put my face right in his face. "Stuff it. NOW." Our noses were almost touching as I glared at him, and he finally reduced his noise to a soft whimper. "You're getting fucked by Davon White, you little shit. What the fuck is a little pain compared to that." Alright so I get a little impatient occasionally and can get carried away when I'm in the middle of a fuck, so now I decided to give him a break and back off a bit. I very slowly pulled my rock-hard boner back just an inch, and then pushed it back in. "There, baby, there. Ain't so bad." I pushed in and out a couple more times, but only an inch or so. "See, baby? Don't hurt so much now. Easy does it. Easy. Easy. I'm going to make it good for you, baby." He was still moaning and saying something, but I wasn't listening to him now. His ass was tight, but because of all the saliva we put in there, my prick was now sliding with ease, so I pulled back and pressed in a couple more inches. He let out a big groan, but at least it wasn't a screech this time. "Yeah, baby. Your hot little ass is getting drilled by the biggest damn cock in the state. Hot muscle cock. Davon White's super cock, baby." Pushing his legs wider apart giving me even better access to his hot little hole, I started with a smooth in and out jacking motion, going in slightly deeper with each thrust. Corey was whimpering but seemed to be generally okay with it now. It still felt pretty damn tight but evidently the worst of the pain was over for him. I told you I don't kiss but sometimes I see the need for it and Corey clearly needed something to get his mind off the pain. "Kiante, get your ass over here and kiss him. Smooch him up." Kiante had been watching from only a few feet away so he was there in a second and taking Corey's face in both hands started licking his face and then French kissing him. Corey's whimpering turned to soft muffled moans. Meanwhile I finally reached bottom; all ten inches in Corey's sweet little ass. It was heavenly, so I just stayed there for a minute or so savoring the feeling. Then I started to fuck, slow and deep. The feeling of that tight ass squeezing my cock was exquisite. And just the idea of getting my cock, for the first time, into this gorgeous, muscular, teenage slave boy who now belonged to me, was exquisite as well. There is only one `first time' when fucking a new slave boy so I intended to keep this going on and on and really enjoy it, so I kept fucking him slowly. Slow and deep, slow and deep. Keeping myself in a total state of bliss as my cock was sending signals of total euphoria throughout my system over and over again. Slow and deep, giving an extra push when I reached bottom, to force every bit of my ten inches into him. Slow and deep. The feeling was so great that I wanted it to go on forever. When your pleasure centers are going crazy you don't want to fuck with them, so I refused to speed up. It would increase the pleasure temporarily but would decrease the duration and I wanted it to last. Slow and deep. Kiante kept sometimes kissing Corey and other times slobbering all over his face. Corey had stopped whimpering completely now so the pain must have been almost completely gone. So there I was, fucking the hottest ass on the hunkiest kid that I had in days, and maybe weeks or even months. I just didn't want to stop, so I didn't. I just kept the slow fuck going, allowing the incredible feelings coming from my cock to go on and on and on. You must know my cock is a fuck machine, so I have amazing control and almost endless stamina, so I just wasn't going to bring this to an end. But after thirty or maybe even forty-five minutes, and after my cell phone had rung at least half a dozen times I finally decided to go for it. Pushing Kiante aside and lifting Corey's ass up into a perfect fucking position, I latched onto his shoulders and started slamming it to him. It didn't take more than three minutes because I'd kept myself on the very edge the whole time. Corey was not crying or yelling but he let out one hell of a grunt each time I banged into him. And when it came, it was like getting my head blown off. Absolute nirvana. A feeling like no other as my prick fired into one of the hottest asses I'd ever had it in. I was slamming into him so hard that it felt like the bed was moving even though it was bolted to the floor. I'll bet I came a gallon into him as I fired blast after blast into that hot ass. And then it was done. I was absolutely dripping with sweat and so was Corey as I flopped down on top of him with my cock still in has ass. "Oh shit" I yelled. And then again, even louder "oh shiiiiiit". They probably heard me in the next cell block, but I didn't care. It was all over now so it didn't matter. I'd probably hear about it from Jackie and Ralph but right now I was just recovering from the most heavenly fuck I'd ever had and could have cared less. I hadn't been paying any attention to Corey, but he was saying something and groaning because evidently I was crushing him. My cock was beginning to get soft anyway, so I slowly lifted up and let it slide out of that perfect ass. Rolling over on my side, I let Corey straighten out his legs and stop complaining. "Hot fucking ass" I said, and even though I don't kiss I grabbed Corey behind the neck, pulled him over to me, and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Baby, your ass is fit for kings and you just got fucked by the king of the cocks. Davon White's cock, baby." I was holding his face just inches from my face, so I gave him another peck on the lips. "And it was good, baby. You made your master happy. Does that make you happy?" "Huh?" Corey answered. "Ahhh... wha...? Ahhh... master?" "I said you made me happy. Are you happy that I'm happy?" "Ahhh... yes. Ahhh... yes, master." "Good, boy" I said as I patted his cheek. "Good, boy. Now thank me for it." There was a pause while he thought it over. "Ahhh... what... Ahhh... master?" "You just had the most fabulous fuck of your life from Davon White, baby. It ain't just anybody gets this dynamite cock up their ass, and you better be properly grateful. Now say thank you." "Thank you, Master." He didn't say it with fervor like I wanted but we'd get to that after the next fuck. "Thank me for what? Spell it out." "Thank you for fucking me, master." I smiled at him as I got up and went to answer my cell phone. To keep me inspired, comments highly recommended. gladiatorkid@hotmail.com ddcolwell@live.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/davon-white-superstud/davon-white-superstud-3

Date: Fri, 24 May 2024 13:18:55 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter 3 This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black man with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with nonconsensual sex between characters. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Three "Transferred? What do you mean, transferred?" I screamed. "What the fuck is this?" Louis and Carl and I had been working out in the weight room when a call came in for Louis to see the warden. Obviously, I knew something was up, because how often does a prisoner get called to the warden's office? Not very damn often, I can tell you. So, when I got back to the cell from the weight room, still soaking wet and dripping with sweat and ready for my shower, Jackie was there waiting for me. It was Jackie that they sent to tell me because they knew there was going to be an explosion, and nobody else wanted to face me. I guess they thought since Jackie was one of my regular fucks, that maybe she could keep me calm. Louis' stuff was already gone. He'd already cleared out. "This is total bullshit" I shouted. "Get him the hell back here. I didn't go to the trouble of training him so some other motherfucker could take advantage of it. Get him the hell back here." "Davon, Davon. Easy. Easy. Just calm down. Please." Jackie said with her hands up in front of me trying to get me to listen. "I ain't gonna calm down" I shouted. "Just get him back here." "Davon, he's gone. He's already left the prison" she said soothingly. "We can't do anything about it now. Come on, Davon. Take it easy. Just calm down and listen." I was totally steaming, but what she said was gradually beginning to sink in. "What do you mean he's already gone?" "They're going to give him a new trial, Davon. They're sending him back to the local jail" Jackie pleaded. "This is good for him, Davon. This is a good thing." "Bullshit, this is a good thing. He was mine, God damn it. He belonged to me. You said he was going to be here a year." "I know, Davon. I know. It was supposed to be a year," she said gingerly. "Maybe he had a good lawyer or something, I don't know. But he's gone, Davon. He's gone." "Well, what a bunch of bullshit" I growled. "Why didn't Ralph tell me?" "He didn't know, Davon. He didn't know until just this morning. It just happened." "So, where do we go from here?" I said, actually talking to myself as it finally sunk in that Louis was gone for good. "Who the fuck do I get now." "Ahhh... Ralph hasn't assigned you a cell mate yet. He said..." "You tell Ralph he can go fuck himself" I growled, interrupting her. "I'll decide who is going to be my cell mate. You tell him to keep his nose out of it. I'll let him know who I want." "Ahhh...., Davon. Ahhh..." Jackie stuttered. "Ralph said to tell you the warden's going to be watching. He was suspicious about Louis being in here, so he's going to be looking over Ralph's shoulder on this one." "That's just too fuckin bad. You tell Ralph he doesn't make these decisions for me. Not for Davon White, he doesn't. In fact, tell Ralph to get his ass down here. I want to talk to him." "Davon, please. Don't act like this. Just calm down and think about it for a while. I'm sure we can work something out." "Bullshit, we'll work something out. You get your ass out of here, Jackie, and you tell Ralph to get down here. NOW!" I turned away from her and grabbed my toiletries and headed out to take a shower. I was still steaming, not the least because this would be the first time in over a year that I didn't have a peon to wait on me and take care of my shower. Ralph was waiting when I got back from my shower. I'd just had a two-hour workout, so I was looking phenomenal, but I knew this didn't do anything for Ralph. He was not only totally straight, but he seemed to be totally blind to my physical perfection. I'd made him blow me once just to make sure he knew his place and let him know how he rated with me. He gave me static until I reminded him, I was boss of the `Black Guerrilla Family' and had Raylon, my enforcer, a real hulk of a guy, set in front of his house for two days to give him encouragement. Raylon can convince anyone to do anything, so Ralph relented and did me. He was totally subservient to me now and very much afraid of me, so he did my bidding without question. But it was beneficial to both of us. He got a Mercedes to drive on the outside and occasional other bennies, while I got his total cooperation in the prison. He was Deputy Warden and did all the scheduling and carried a lot of authority, so although he was a chickenshit little wimp, it was helpful to have him as another cringing sycophant, "Listen, Davon..." he started to say. "What happened to Louis, damn it, and why didn't you tell me?" "Davon, please" he pleaded. "The warden's watching us. I've got to be careful." "Fuck the warden. Answer my question." "The transfer papers came through this morning, Davon. There was nothing I could do. The warden brought the papers to me himself, so I had to act immediately. There's no doubt he's suspicious of us Davon, so we've really got to cool it for a while." I took a quick glance to see if anyone was around, and then grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up on his tiptoes just inches from my angry face. "We've got a deal you little piece of shit" I said softly but angrily. "And that deal is you do what I say. And you fucken will do what I say." "Davon, Davon, Davon" he squealed as his face started to turn red and I could see the look of fear in his eyes. "I can't. I really can't." "You goddamn piece of shit. I can have Raylon stop by your house this morning so do not try to fuck with me." "No, Davon. Wait. We still have a deal" he pleaded as I continued holding him right in my face. "I'll still take care of you, but we've just got to cool it for a few days. Just a couple days, Davon. Just a couple days." "Okay, you put in a call for me to come to your office after lunch today and we'll talk about our deal" I growled at him as I pushed him away. To be sure there was no doubt in his mind what I was talking about I pushed the towel off letting it fall to the floor and squeezed my dick. "Ohhh... fuck. No, Davon. No." "Take your pick. You call me in, or we have Raylon renegotiate our deal. And I suspect he won't be feeling very generous." "No, Davon. Please" he said desperately. "Decide. Right now." "Okay, okay, okay. Jesus, Davon." "After lunch" I said as I grabbed a pair of Jockeys and pulled them on. "And have Carl transferred back in here." By the time I got the call to go to Ralph's office I'd finally cooled down. That's the problem with being the Boss. I'm Boss and I like being the Boss, and having my little minions running around doing my bidding can be a real charge, but when things go wrong, I admit I overreact. A CEO of a company has got it made because he can just fire any asshole who fucks up, but it ain't that easy for me to keep this place in shape, so sometimes I just explode. I have the power because of my gang and Jamal and Raylon, but I must do a whole lot of manipulating and persuading and ass kicking to keep everybody in this damn place in line. "Hi-ya, Ralph" I said giving Ralph a big smile as I entered his office and closed the door. Ralph was setting behind his desk looking like his best friend had died. "Davon, please. We don't have to do this. Let me explain what I can do for you. I think you'll like it." "Yeah, I'd like to hear you explain, and I know I'm going to like it a lot. But I know I'll like it a lot better after you do me," I said as I unzipped my prison coveralls, shrugged them off my shoulders, and let them drop to the floor. I had deliberately worn a jockstrap under the overalls instead of commando because I wanted Ralph to have to pull them down before he blew me. I really like to make a guy go search for my dick when he's being forced to suck me because it tends to humiliate him even more and so clearly shows their servility. And let me tell you, as much as I love the actual act of sticking my prick into a guy, it's the domination and the intimidation and the humiliation that goes with it that really makes it hot. I mean, you gotta know I don't want a lover who I have to be lovey-dovey with. That ain't my thing. I want a submissive fuck boy that I've trained to deal with my strict discipline. "Come here, Ralph" I said. "Davon, listen....." "Come here, Ralph," I repeated softly. "Come here and get it out." I just stood there staring at him with a smile on my face as I reached down and groped my growing prick. "I'm hot and ready for you, Ralph." There were beads of sweat on his forehead now, but he slowly got up and walked around his desk. My grin got even bigger as I watched him slowly sink to his knees in front of me. I didn't say a word but just watched him as he looked up at me with pleading eyes, but he finally reached up and pulled my jock down below my balls allowing my cock to slap up against my belly. It was fully hard now, not because it knew it was going to get a good blowjob, but because it knew the Deputy Warden was the one who was going to give it. I mean, my cock has a mind of its own sometimes and it was really looking forward to this. The Deputy Warden, for god's sake. I didn't do anything or say anything as Ralph took it in his mouth. He was jerking it with his hand as he sucked hoping to get me off as quick as possible. I didn't help, but I didn't hinder either, but just let the heat buildup slowly. Obviously, he wasn't any good at it, but I kept reminding myself who he was and that helped me reach the peak, and finally shoot into his mouth. It took about fifteen minutes. I must give Ralph credit because he took all of it in his mouth until I was through, or maybe he just didn't want to get any cum on the carpet. Reaching over and grabbing a waste basket he stuck his head in it and spit. He sounded like he was going to puke too but he just kept his head in the basket for a couple minutes, spitting over and over. Yeah, I know, I know, I never allow my cocksuckers to spit out my stuff. Never. But this is the Deputy Warden. Not a common everyday cocksucker. Just the pleasure of seeing him on his knees doing me was satisfying all by itself. "You ain't done yet" I said as he started to stand up. "What?" he said with a shocked look on his face. "What?" "I told you to never fuck with me. Didn't I" I growled at him. "Didn't I?" "Come on, Davon. It wasn't my fault." "I told you not to fuck with me or there'd be hell to pay, didn't I" I repeated. "Davon. Please." "You fuck up, there's consequences." Then I turned around with my ass in his face. "Kiss" I said and waited. "Davon..." Ralph said in shock. "Remember Raylon? Now kiss my ass." There were a few seconds hesitation, but then I felt his lips against my ass cheek. "I want to hear it" I said so he did it again with an audible smack. "Now the other cheek" I ordered, and he kissed the other side. You cannot imagine how much fun it is to humiliate a guy like this; it's mind-blowing. But I was on a roll and wanted to extend it even more, so I turned around with my softening dick in his face. "Pull my jock up" I ordered. Without question, Ralph obeyed me, pulling it up and tucking my prick inside. Then we renegotiated, me standing there near naked in all my glory and Ralph on his knees at my feet. Ralph got a car for his seventeen-year-old son to use which I would let Jamal take care of, and I got complete and total cooperation from him, much more than before. He admitted that the Warden seldom came out into the prison but followed all the activity on various reports in his office, most of them supplied by Ralph. So, all he had to do was start forging some of those documents so that my name never came up, so we didn't have to worry about the Warden getting involved. So, the new deal included forging documents, and circumventing regulations which really put Ralph out on a limb. But fuck him. It's no skin off my ass if he gets in trouble. "There's so many things going on, Davon, that he'll forget your name in a couple days. I promise you. If we just cool it for a few days. I'll be able to give you just about anything you want as long as the reports don't reach his desk." I admit these were not honest negotiations, because with the `Black Guerrilla Family' and Raylon on the outside he was in total terror of me and completely under my control. And right now, I hadn't let him get up from his knees in front of me as I glared down at him. I was standing there in just my jockstrap with all my incredible muscles showing and my coveralls down around my ankles, so you can understand how intimidated he was. I gave him the car just for the hell of it so he could pretend that he had some backbone and could talk to me as an equal. But no way would I ever consider this cowering little motherfucker on his knees before me as my equal. Just like all the other lackeys around me, he was there to be used until I had no more use for him. And let me tell you something: Ralph wasn't a wimp until I got ahold of him. That's the power I have. Turning him from a young up and coming Deputy Warden into a groveling cocksucker was just another game for me, a challenge. I mean, the day I arrived at this place when I saw this young fresh-faced white boy, this Deputy Warden for the first time, I knew I wanted him, and I set it as a project to get him on his knees. Hey, this is Davon White. Ain't nobody I can't manipulate and get under my control. "Honest, Davon, this will work" he pleaded. "Please, Davon. Just give me a chance. Give me a couple days to get it going. Just two, three days. Please. Okay? And then you can have anything, I promise. Okay, Davon? Okay?" "Just make sure you don't fuck with me again, Ralph. I ain't about to take it and I won't be so easy next time, if there is a next time. You hear me, babe?" "Yes, Davon, yes. Just give me a couple days and then I promise things will go just like you want them. I promise." --------- So, I was without a cellmate or a boy-toy. I wanted Carl but Ralph said the Warden had red flagged him, so we didn't dare move him right now. The Warden had red flagged me as well, but that was what Ralph was going to take care of. Ralph had planned to put Alex in with me, but I put the kibosh on that immediately. Alex was young black kid, but he was a little chubby and he wasn't pretty the way I like them, and he was poorly trained, an ill-mannered submissive. I wanted a young pretty boy with a nice body, but I didn't want one that had already been someone else's boy-toy. Some of them come with bad habits or with a chip on their shoulder and you have to beat it out of them. Preferably, I wanted a kid with a clean slate to mold to my own liking. What I really wanted was another Louis because he had the makings of an ideal slave boy, just perfect for my needs. But I needed someone right now to take care of the day-to-day shit, like showering, taking care of my stuff, and giving an occasional blowjob while I searched for a new boy. I decided on Raul, a cute Mexican kid. This pissed off Jerry, a big hulking Mexican guy, to no end because Raul was his fuck-toy. But every guy in this prison knew my reputation and could see how powerful I was, and they knew about the `Black Guerrilla Family', so nobody messed with me. Besides, I told him I was just borrowing Raul temporarily and I considered it a personal favor, so Jerry was magnanimous about it and said I could have him as long as I wanted. Stupid asshole. So easily manipulated. Raul wasn't particularly well trained because Jerry just fucked him occasionally and ignored him the rest of the time. So, when Jackie brought him by, I slapped the shit out of him, so he'd know how submissive I expected him to be. After I gave him a few minutes to recover I slapped the shit out of him again to emphasize my requirements. After I got the piss-soaked shorts from the back of the toilet and put them over his head, i tossed him into the upper bunk. I just wanted him pliable and obedient. I didn't plan to keep him very long, so I didn't want to waste my time training him. Jackie came by to tell me to cool it, but all it took was twenty minutes in the supply room with her worshiping my big prong to get her back to thinking I was god's gift. I mean, she'd take my dick any way she could get it, but she gave a mean blowjob. But hell, any bitch gets twenty minutes with Davon White is gonna know she's been used by a god. I'm never gentle, but with this big wanger of mine there ain't nobody goes away unsatisfied. And they damn well know it's an honor to get it on with me, Davon White, the most awesome muscle hunk they've ever seen, with an enormous tool that they can never get enough of. Shit, even here in prison the guard's line up to get a taste of me and sometimes get rather aggressive about being at the head of the line. I mean, you should have seen Jackie when she caught me fucking her friend Julie. Hell, Julie would have ended up with no hair if I hadn't taken Jackie down and sat on her. And don't think I'm just talking about women. There are several male guards around that are also hot for big black dick. So, everything was cool temporarily while I waited for Ralph to get his shit together. I was working out with Carl a couple days later when I saw Ralph at the door, and I knew something was up. Raul wasn't there because I knew he was temporary and I couldn't be bothered showing him what I wanted in the weight room. He was okay as my cell slave and was a halfway decent cocksucker, but it was only for a few days. I wasn't about to interrupt my workout just because Ralph showed up, so even though I noticed a smile on his face, I just ignored him, and he finally went away. When I got back to my cell, he was standing there waiting for me. "Davon. Davon, I've... I've got good news. Ahhh... I mean, really good news." I was standing there dripping with sweat wearing only a pair of gym shorts and therefore totally intimidating, but shit, he stood there stuttering and almost bowing to me, nervous as hell. Jesus, what a wimp. I was almost embarrassed at what I'd turned him in to. "Okay, Ralph. Spit it out. What have you got?" "We're moving you to `L' cell block and to the last cell at the end, just like you asked. So, you'll have all the privacy you want and with the four-man cell you'll have a lot more room and you can have three cell mates if you want." Ralph was enthusiastic now and was hoping I'd be pleased with his efforts. "If you don't want the other set of bunks, I'll remove them and get you a bigger desk. Whatever you want, Davon. Okay? Is this okay? Huh? Remember that this is the cell block that allows more freedom. Okay? This is what you said you wanted, Davon." "Ralph. You're such a fuckin wimp" I said, "and I bet I know what you want." Reaching down I groped myself through my gym shorts. "Come on, Davon. Don't do that. Please. I'm trying to give you want you want. I'm doing my best here." "Okay, Ralph" I said with a laugh as I stuck my hand inside my shorts and groped my dick some more. "But just remember that I've got this here waiting for you whenever you want it." I brought my hand up to my face and gave it a good sniff and a lick. Ralph turned absolutely beet red in embarrassment, but I was enjoying the hell out of it. "You may have to wait in line" I said laughing out loud "but I've got enough down here to go around." "Davon" he said, and although I was loving it, I could see I was beginning to scare him, so I held off. "Okay, so when is this going to happen?" "It's already happening, Davon. That kid you asked for, Kiante, is already helping Raul move your stuff to the new cell." He said this with trepidation since he knew my temper and knew I could explode if things didn't go exactly my way. "I've assigned Kiante to your cell, but you need to tell me what to do with Raul. Okay, Davon? Huh? Does that sound okay?" "Keep Raul with me for now, and I'll let you know. What's the deal with Kiante?" "The Warden put him in isolation because that baby face makes him look like, ahhh... a twelve-year-old or something. He was there for his own protection. So, see? See what I'm doing for you, Davon? I pulled him out of there without the Warden knowing, just because I know that's the type you like. I'm really working for you, Davon." Oh yeah, Ralph knew what I liked. He'd seen me brutally turn half a dozen or more kids into my wimpy little pussy boys, groveling cocksuckers every one. You see the power I've got? Huh? Do you? Without a single thought for the new kid's well-being, Ralph was delivering him to me on a silver platter, even though he knew I was going to put the kid through hell and make him into my obedient little fuck boy. That's the power that comes with being the Boss of the `Black Guerrilla Family'. Ralph would do anything, absolutely anything, to try to keep me happy. "You did it because I told you to do it and it's about fuckin time you're getting your act together. I wanted that cellblock `L' six months ago you little shit. And you knew that." "Davon, come-on" he pleaded. "Please. I couldn't do it then and you know I couldn't. But it's here now. You've got it. Just what you wanted. And you get this new kid too. I did this for you, Davon." I looked around to see if we were alone, and then grabbed him by the neck with one big paw, jerking him almost completely off his feet. "Don't you get a swelled head out of this you little fuck" I growled in his face. "I own you and don't you forget it." Squeezing his neck, I gave him one hell of a shake and then let him go. He staggered back almost losing his balance. "Okay, Davon" he said breathlessly, his face white as a sheet as he put his hands to his neck. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Jesus, I'm sorry." I just glared at him for a minute. Anything really pisses me off is some asshole thinking I owe him gratitude for him doing my bidding. They should damn well be grateful for being able to serve me. "All right, show me where to go" I snarled. ----------- When I entered the cell, I ignored the new kid entirely, but just told Raul it was shower time, so it wasn't until we got back that I paid any attention to him at all. I'd worked out, had a shower, and was now wearing only a towel, so this kid was seeing the most incredible muscle man he could have ever imagined. Totally massive, rock hard with astonishing definition, sheer perfection in a human animal, a superman. Obviously, I couldn't enter body building contests here in prison, but I was always contest ready, right up there on a par with any bodybuilding contest winners here in Maryland. Kiante was a black kid of twenty-two with a medium brown complexion with a with a cute baby face. He was only about 5'7" so I towered over him, but he had perfectly beautiful features, with dimples for god's sake, and a smile that wouldn't quit. He didn't look particularly feminine, but with that baby face he looked very, very young. You had to wonder if he was still wearing diapers. But he could only be described as beautiful. And I could hardly wait to see that gorgeous face and pretty mouth wrapped around my big black dick. Right now, as I entered the cell, he stood up and smiled at me. And, Jesus Christ, his face lit up like a God damn light bulb making him look positively angelic. "Hello" he said. "I'm Kiante." I put one big paw around his neck and pushed, forcing him to backpedal across the cell until his back was pressed against the bars, and then lifted him, pulling him up off his tiptoes and holding him there with one hand. I just looked down at him as I held him there against the bars squeezing his neck. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything, but maybe after a full minute I coughed up some phlegm and spit in his face. He didn't flinch and didn't even blink as it hit his nose and dripped down over his lips. His face was turning red from my choking him, but he just kept this stoic look on his face. "You're a lowlife piece of shit" I said. Now I saw a glimmer of fear showing in his face as he gulped, his Adams apple bobbing up and down under my hand. "I'm... ahhh... I'm a lowlife piece of shit" he croaked since I was throttling him. "Who am I?" I asked. Now the fear showed even more because he wanted to say what he knew I wanted to hear, but he didn't know what it was. He gulped again and said hesitantly. "You're... ahhh... Davon... ahhh... sir." definitely adding the sir. I let him have it with an open hand to the face, and then backhanded him. He didn't let out a peep. "I'm your master" I snapped at him. "Yes sir, master" he whimpered. "Ahhh... master. Ahhh... yes, master, sir." I could see right away that this kid was going to be different from the usual fuck boy. I firmly believe that beating the crap out of a kid at the beginning makes him into a great submissive later. But this kid was already as submissive as hell and I'd barely touched him, so maybe I'd have to reconsider his training. "How do you honor your master" I asked as I let go of him and stepped back. He immediately dropped to his knees and planted a kiss on my left sandal and then the right. Shit, this kid was too much. Because he was so pretty with such a baby face, I suppose he'd been hit on all the time and had learned early on how to be submissive to big guys. As I walked over and sat on a bunk, I noticed Raul standing in the corner hoping I wouldn't notice him, but I had no interest in him for now. I'd just let him watch for a while and get to him later. "Take off my sandals" I ordered. Kiante scurried over, staying on his hands and knees, and did as he was told. "Worship" was all I said. And he did. I just let him go at it for five, maybe ten minutes before I said anything. And he was good. Licking and sucking and kissing; getting in between the toes and sucking on them and covering every inch of my feet with his lips and tongue. He'd most definitely done this before. "Strip" I said, and he leaped to his feet and stripped down in seconds. I pointed down and he got back on my feet with his cute little ass sticking up. I knew from Ralph's description that he had a nice body, quite muscular for his little frame. Again, a kid as pretty as him probably needed some muscle to try to fight off any pursuers. So, for the time being, I decided to relent and not kick the shit out of him. I'd just wait and see how things went. I'd hold my tried-and-true training program of kicking his ass in abeyance for now to see if he could perform without it. "You suck dick, slave boy?" "Yes, master" he responded. No hesitation, no nothing, just `yes'. "Show me" I said. He raised up, put his hands behind his back, and buried his face in my crotch. Oh yeah, this kid was talented. My cock was about half hard already as he clamped onto it with his teeth through my towel and started chewing on it gently. I let him go for a bit before I told him to remove the towel. "Just look, baby, and tell me what you see." "I see a big beautiful black cock, master. An enormous black cock. This beautiful black cock belongs to my master and needs to be worshiped." Against my better judgment, I had to laugh. This kid was just too much. "Okay, kiss it" I said, still chuckling. "Yes, master" he replied as he kissed the head and then moved up and down my hardening boner. He was good, he was really good. "Hello, Davon" said a voice. "Welcome to cell block `L'. I see you're getting settled in." And there standing by the cell door was Craig, the beast as I called him. Craig was a phenomenon. A giant of a man who I'd called `the beast' from the beginning. Hey, if there's anybody on this planet who's into muscles it's Davon White, but Craig was massive, and I knew damn well that under those clothes he had definition beyond belief. I think there was an attraction from the very beginning for us because we were both enormous body building hunks. >From my first arrival at the prison, Craig would stop by occasionally just to shoot the shit, so it was not surprising that we became friendly, if not actual friends. After all, he was a guard and I was a prisoner, but we'd chat away, mostly about body building while we admired each other's bodies. And why in the hell not? He was built like a brick shit house; I mean he was the incredible hulk personified. So, I liked him and admired him (hell, I loved looking at him), and perhaps I was a little envious of him. I mean, I worked my ass off in the gym and I didn't look like him, but I wanted to. But, being Davon White, I also wanted him. I wanted to fuck him. Okay so he wasn't my usual type, which is young pretty boys with nice firm bodies. Craig was very handsome but there was absolutely nothing pretty about him. That's why I called him the Beast. But this is Davon. Davon White, Superstud. I don't admire guys, they admire me. I don't envy guys, they envy me. But Craig was different because he was the closest thing to an equal I'd ever met. Craig was built like a tank, low and wide, although he must have been 5'9" or 5'10". He was just huge. He told me his arms were at least twenty-one inches and I believed him, and I know damn well he spends more time in a weight room than I do, because his chest was at least sixty-five inches, and his shoulders... Shit, his shoulders... I swear to God I don't know how he could get through a doorway. And most incredible, he said his waist was only thirty-three inches. How the hell to you get a shirt or jacket for a guy built like a funnel. So, Craig was a perfect guard, because how could anybody not be intimidated by a giant like him? Hell, just looking at him would put a guy into panic mode. Anybody except me of course, because nobody intimidates me. But, from the first time I saw him I was impressed and, okay, maybe a little envious of those massive muscles. But that doesn't mean I didn't check him out and consider him for a hot fuck. He wasn't a teenager which I'm partial to, but he couldn't have been over twenty-five/twenty-six, maybe a year older than me. So, from the very beginning he'd come around to my cell every few weeks being friendly even though I was in cell block `C'. I enjoyed talking to him and enjoyed looking at him as well. But I've got one of those aggressive personalities, it's built into my system, and anybody and everybody, male or female, is a potential receptacle for my big schlong. And Craig was no exception. Just because I respected him didn't mean I didn't want to fuck him. He didn't take compliments well, not from a muscle stud like me anyway, so every time I admired his body, or felt his biceps, or touched his rock-hard abs, he'd turn red with embarrassment. And then he'd return the compliments telling me how spectacular I looked. Of course, I'm not shy so I'd strip down and let him see everything and let him get a good feel of my muscles. Then, of course, I'd joke about wanting to see every inch of him. >From the very beginning there was this attraction between us as big muscle hunks. I mean there sure wasn't anybody else in this place that I had anything in common with. But what was surprising to me was my sexual attraction to him. When I was thirteen, young and ignorant I wasn't very selective about my partners, and I fucked anybody and everybody. But since then, once I realized I was a hunk, I hadn't screwed anybody over twenty-five. And nobody over six foot or a hundred-fifty ponds either. Craig must have weighed on towards three-hundred. But I wanted to get into his pants. So, even as I admired and respected him, I started playing a game with him. He wasn't the brightest bulb in the room, so it wasn't that hard to butter him up. I always told him how spectacular his muscles were, even with his clothes on, but then I started admiring his butt, and let me tell you, it was worth admiring. You could have set a coffee cup on it. It embarrassed the shit out of him, but he didn't protest even when I started grabbing it and giving it a squeeze. But hell, we touched each other all the time. I mean, we were body builders; we compared ourselves to each other. So, let me stop here for a minute and tell you about `the day'. The day it happened. The day Craig came by. ----------- "Hey, Davon. How's it going?" he asked on that day, about a year ago. "Hey there, Beast. How's my favorite muscle guy. The guy with the hot ass" I said with a laugh, and he laughed along with me. "What's happening?" "Same-oh, same-oh" he said. "Just thought I'd stop by and see if you are staying hard." I'd led him into sexual innuendos previously, so we talked like this all the time. "You betcha, Craig. Got me a fuck boy here that keeps me busy, and he's got an ass almost as pretty as yours." Again, we both laughed. As we talked about weightlifting and shit, I walked up to the bars right in front of him. "Jesus Christ, Craig, I can't believe it but you're actually getting bigger" I said, admiring him. "Damn, them arms are going to burst right out of that jacket." As usual he started turning red in embarrassment. "Pretty damn spectacular, Craig, but still; there ain't nothing can compare to that hot ass of yours." This time I didn't laugh although Craig giggled a little. This shit of just hinting at butt fucking had been dragging on for months now, which was ridiculous, so I decided to make my move. "You have no idea how your ass turns me on, Craig" I crooned sensuously into his ear, so he'd know the conversation had changed. Reaching through the bars I grabbed his belt and pulled him closer, and then reached behind him and grabbed his ass. I'd grabbed his ass playfully several times before but this time I held on and started squeezing it. "Hot fuckin ass, Craig." "Ahhh... man. Ahhh... Davon..." he mumbled but he didn't try to pull away. "Hot fuckin ass, Craig. And I got something here for you." Continuing to squeeze his ass with one hand, I grabbed his hand with the other and pulled him into my crotch. The idea of doing Craig was getting me incredibly excited and my cock was like a steel bar already, so Craig got a feel of one incredible ten-inch dick. "How about it, Craig?" I whispered. "You like black muscle dick? Hmm?" "Ahhhh ..., Davon... " "Open the cell, Craig" I whispered sweetly. "Open up and get some of this big black dick." He was starting to sweat, and he looked frightened, but he wasn't letting go, in fact he now had a good grip and was squeezing it. "Ohhh..." he groaned, and I saw that he had a big bulge in his pants. "Oh yeah, Craig. Feel that hot dick. Big dick, hot and ready." I saw that he had his eyes closed, but he was holding on tight to my dick and had started slowly jacking it up and down. "Hot muscle stud here for you, Craig. Let's stop fuckin around and just do it, babe." Then he pulled out his keys and opened the cell door. He'd obviously made up his mind on the spot because he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down the cell block, around the corner and opened a door. It was a small storeroom or a closet or something, wasn't very big and there were some mops and shit in the corner. He pulled me in and turned to face me. He obviously didn't know what to do but I sure as hell did, and there was nothing holding me back. In two seconds flat, I had his belt unfastened and, in a couple more seconds, I had his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. Then I pushed him hard, slamming him against the wall, banging his head, so they'd be no question who was boss. And let me tell you, manhandling a muscleman like this is absolutely exhilarating. Grabbing him by the waist, I jerked him around, pushed him against the wall again and ripped his pants and shorts down. I was nude underneath my coveralls so in one second, I was unzipped, and my big schlong was sticking out. I was now in a total frenzy. "Gonna give it to you hard, babe" I said, breathing hard with excitement. "Big muscle stud like you can take it." This muscle stud, as big as he was, had surely never been fucked before but I didn't give a shit. Virgin or no, a brawny hunk like this needs to be fucked hard. "Ohhh... Davon, Davon, Davon" he moaned in passionate anticipation. He was fuckin ready, and no way was I going to hold off. Spitting on my hand, I rubbed it into his crack and stuck a finger in, all in about five seconds. Then, spitting again and smearing it on my ramrod, I cranked it down, took aim, and pushed. Big muscled body builder like him, he was used to muscle pain from his workouts, and even craved it, so I knew without question he could take anything I could give him. There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted to be dominated and fucked hard by a masterful black muscle stud and I damn well know he wanted it to hurt. I mean, what the hell would be the point of a supposed top dog being dominated and turned into a pussy if there was no pain involved. I knew exactly what he needed, and I knew how to give it to him. He's all muscle including his ass, so it wasn't easy, but I forced my big bludgeon in and started fucking. I could see he was biting his hand to try to keep from screaming, but all I heard from him was occasional grunts and a long drawn-out moan which went on and on as I fucked him. He was trying to be quiet but couldn't quite manage it. I grabbed onto his massive shoulders, bent my knees slightly since I was so much taller than him, pushed his legs apart, and slammed my big monster up into his ass. I was banging him up against the wall and almost lifting his 260 pounds up off the floor with each thrust. I'd never fucked a guy this big before and I was in a frenzy of exultation as I pounded into him. He was still biting his hand but couldn't help but give out a loud grunt each time I slammed into him. Did I say he had a hot ass? Whoo-whee, did he ever have a hot ass. I pulled him away from the wall, and then slammed him into it again, just to show my power over him. Damn, this was incredible, taking this muscle giant and giving it to him up the ass. Slamming him into the wall one more time, I fired my first shot into his ass, grabbed a handful of hair and gave it a big jerk. That got a yelp from him, but I wasn't paying attention since I was in the throes of my ejaculation. Dominating this giant and fucking him hard was almost driving me crazy with the triumph of controlling him, so I had to be careful not to scream with exhilaration as I fired over and over again into his incredible ass. But, all too soon, it was all over, and I leaned against his massive back, both of us panting up a storm. I just stayed there with my dick up his ass for the longest time just waiting for it to go soft, but the damn thing didn't want to go down. I'd never fucked a muscle giant like this before, and my cock knew it and didn't want to stop. And, honest to God, I actually considered fucking him again right then and there without even pulling out. My cock sure as hell wanted it. But finally, I had to pull back, allowing it to pop out of his butt. I zipped up and stood back while Craig pulled his pants up. That was when I saw the wet spot on the wall with Craig's jism dripping down, and I couldn't help but chuckle. "Looks like somebody really got turned on" I said with a laugh. Craig didn't say a word as he led me back to my cell and he wouldn't even look at me, so I knew he was totally embarrassed. There was no doubt in my mind that Craig was special, so I didn't rub it in that he'd just been dominated by a black stud. He was a muscle god in his own right who had just been conquered and fucked, and I knew it would take him a while to adjust to what had just happened and accept the fact that he had been my submissive, my fuck boy. After he left, I just stood there marveling at what had just happened. My dick still hadn't gone down and was telling me that was the very best fuck it'd ever had. And, as amazing as it may seem, I knew that was the truth. This is Davon White, the world's number one fuck artist, who's fucked more cunts and asses than there are fish in the sea, saying he'd just had the best fuck of his life. But hell, it was hard to believe even for me, that I'd just dominated the biggest, hunkiest mother-fuckin white muscle stud in the state, and a prison guard at that. Shit, man, this guy was a monster, and could break most guys in two with one hand, and I'd just turned him into my fuck boy. I was about to blow the top off my head in euphoria just thinking about it. Who gives a shit about pretty young kids when you can dominate and fuck the biggest, most masculine hunk you've ever seen? Since that day, that event when I'd fucked him, I hadn't seen him again, maybe a whole year now. Same prison, different cell blocks; he never came by again. --------- But at this moment I was in his cell block, and he was standing outside my cell. "Hello, Davon" he'd said. "Welcome to cell block `L'. I see you're getting settled in." He'd said that and laughed because Kiante and I were both naked and he was still down there kissing my dick. "Hey, Beast" I said giving him a big smile. "How's it hangin?" I looked at him and felt a surge of excitement shoot through by body as I remembered fucking him. I wanted to stick my dick up that hot ass again, and I wanted to ram it in hard. Big fuckin body like that, I also wanted him naked so I could feel him up while I fucked him. I wanted to hear him squeal when I pinched his tits and rammed my big pecker into him. I just wanted him. "Same-oh, same-oh" Craig answered in response to my query. "Got a new boy to break in, Craig. Just getting started" I said trying to make a joke out of him finding me in this compromising position. Pushing Kiante away, I stood up. "It'll take a while to get him up to snuff, but I guess I've got the time" I joked. You know I have no inhibitions whatsoever, so I walked over to the cell door with my cock almost completely hard and pointing up at about a hundred twenty-degree angle. I mean, I was caught in the act so what the hell was I supposed to do? "Remember this Craig?" I asked as I pushed it down and let it slap back up against my belly. "Now I'm in your cell block, maybe you'll want to get better acquainted with it. Hmmm?" That's pure Davon. Completely outrageous and aggressive. For once, I think I left him speechless although it seemed he couldn't take his eyes off my prick. In fact, I think this was the first time he'd seen it and had only felt it up his ass before, and he seemed to be mesmerized by it. And, oh yeah, let me tell you that my ten-inch monster is a thing a power and beauty and I'm sure Craig couldn't believe that I'd forced it all the way up his ass. "Don't worry, babe. I won't push it. Whenever you're ready. But check this out." I reached my hand out through the bars and waited because I couldn't reach him. After just a couple seconds he put his hand into mine and let me pull him into my hard-on. "Get a good feel, Craig. Hot muscle cock just waiting for a hot ass to plow. Just let me know, babe." Without saying a word, he gave my cock a good squeeze, which was a pretty good signal of his interest, but then he turned away checking his clipboard, and went to the next cell. I hoped I hadn't overplayed my hand but getting caught with Kiante kissing my cock had put me in an awkward position. Turning around, I walked back over to Kiante. As I sat down, I snapped my fingers, and he crawled over and started kissing my prick again. I couldn't help but be amazed at that massive back and gorgeous ass on Craig as I turned to watch him standing at the next cell. I was totally envious of his colossal build, and I desperately wanted to see him in the nude, but I also wanted to see him on his knees in front of me getting ready to smoke my toke. I like `em young, teenage young when available, but right now I think I'd be willing to give them up if I had hunks like Craig available to fuck. The word `domination' has a whole new meaning when you're talking about a behemoth like Craig instead of some pipsqueak kid. "Get on my balls, babe" I said to Kiante. "Get `em wet and suck on `em." I slid slightly forward to give him better access and he really went at it. But shit, you know me. I couldn't let this kid think it was this easy to please me no matter how good he was. Remember, I said you kick their ass even when they are doing great, because then they'll somehow try even harder. I grabbed him by the hair, jerked him up and gave him an open-handed slap. "I said wet, punk boy" I snapped at him. "Here, let me help" I said as I hacked up some phlegm and spit, hitting him right between the eyes. "Now stick your nose in there and then slobber all over my balls." Well, it worked, because he did try harder. Rubbing his face in there smearing my spit around and then with his own spit, slobbering all over my balls. I let him go for a at least five minutes, maybe ten, and then slid down almost off the chair and pushed his head down. Without any hesitation whatsoever, he shoved his face in my crack and stuck his tongue up my ass. Jesus, what a feeling, and what a picture too, just knowing that that beautiful baby face was jammed up my butt. "Raul" I said and snapped my fingers. Raul was there in just seconds and on his knees next to Kiante. I grabbed a handful of hair, took aim, and pulled his mouth down on my big salami. Since Kiante was doing such a terrific job eating out my ass, and since Raul was a pretty good cocksucker, I decided to go with both of them. One pretty boy sticking his tongue up your ass and another pretty boy sucking on your knob can be pretty damn stimulating, and I was loving it. Kiante got me warmed up, Craig really turned me on, and now I was almost ready to blow. I was still thinking about Craig, so it was only about five minutes before I was up and throbbing. I gave both Raul and Kiante slaps to the back of the head a couple times to urge them on and they were doing great, totally dedicated and completely focused on serving their master and giving him the absolute maximum pleasure they could provide. Hey, this is me, Davon White, the biggest, baddest, hottest black muscle stud in the nation, and this is the kind of service I deserve and expect. ------------ The next morning, I woke up feeling great and raring to go on my body building. There ain't nothing like seeing and feeling rock hard pumped muscles aching slightly from a workout, so I stretched and flexed my whole muscled body a couple times before I even got out of bed. Every time I saw Craig, I got stimulated to work even harder, and since cell block `L' was for the best-behaved prisoners and had its own weight room, I intended to have one hell of a workout today, and every day from now on. After I blew my wad yesterday, I had Ralph transfer Raul off somewhere and just ignored Kiante for the rest of the day. I did take note, however, that he seemed attentive and ready at a moment's notice to take care of my needs. Since I was now in cellblock `L' with four-man rooms, and with Ralph doing my bidding, I had the choice of getting two more guys, just one more guy, or just getting rid of the extra bunks and taking advantage of the extra space. But there really wasn't any decision to be made since I'd decided months ago that two fuck boys would be a whole lot better than one, and I planned to get another one in here. Here in prison, I always had action on the side with the guards and occasionally another prisoner, so trying to keep three slaves occupied would probably be more trouble that it was worth, but two pretty young cell mates would be perfect. I mean, yesterday was sensational with Kiante eating my ass and Raul blowing me, so there was no reason I couldn't have that on a regular basis. I'd had my eye out for someone for a while since Raul was just not hunky enough for me, and I'd seen a few possible prospects. But Louis had seemed to be so perfect that I kind of wanted a white boy to replace him, but there was a definite shortage of them in this prison. It was mostly blacks and Hispanics and although there were some white guys, there wasn't a single young pretty one in the bunch. But hey, where there's a will, there's a way, and this is Davon White, muscle stud and leader of the `Black Guerrilla Family'. I turned my problem over to Jamal. You don't think so? You don't think I have that kind of pull? Well, think again. Me and my gang had connections everywhere. How do you think I got only three years in a low security prison if I didn't have some pull with the judge? I hadn't fucked the judge, but I'd fucked his daughter three times and her boyfriend once, and although he wasn't overjoyed about it, she loved it. I just happened to meet her (accidently on purpose) and her boyfriend at a club one night, and remember, this is Davon White, Superstud. You may think this is something special but it ain't because there's not much of anything out there that I want that I can't get. She loved me sticking my big hunk of beef into her and she came back twice for more. The last time she brought her boyfriend along as enticement and absolutely loved watching me coercing him into blowing me. So, it wasn't a big deal to get her to put in a good word with her dad. So, with this kind of pull, if I wanted a pretty white boy transferred to this prison, the chances were good that I could swing it. Surprisingly enough, it was Ralph that came through for me. There was a gorgeous eighteen-year-old white kid named Corey who was about to be sentenced for rape. It seems he liked raping thirty-year-old women in front of their kids for god's sake and had done it several times. That's amazing because he is so good looking that any sixteen-year-old virgin would drop her panties in an instant if he'd even looked her way. Go figure. He was obviously one of those insecure individuals that couldn't deal with people his own age. Most of the fuck boys I'd had here in prison looked like teenagers, but they were actually older, so I'd never had a real teenager; not here in prison anyway. I got an instant hard-on when Ralph showed me a picture of this kid and immediately called Jamal and got him working on a possible fix. This kid was gorgeous, truly outstanding. A blond beach boy type, with bright blue eyes and perfect teeth and an outstanding physique. He'd been a wrestler and a football player in high school before they'd kicked him out. I told both Jamal and Ralph to check him out. ---------- So, anyway, here I was in cell block `L' with Kiante, a beautiful black kid, who seemed to be a perfect slave. I said I was going to have a hell of a workout today, my first day here. Just for today, I didn't let Kiante workout with me but had him changing the weights so I could give total concentration to my own workout. And what a great workout. I was totally exhilarated when I finished. After leaving the gym and grabbing our towels and stuff, I showed Kiante what I expected from him in the shower. As we came back to the cell, I let him enter first so I could pull his towel off and get a good look at his butt. I told you he was pretty and that means he was pretty all over, especially his ass. As he put my toiletries down, I stood behind him, took two handfuls of firm little ass cheeks and squeezed them and then bent down and gave him a love bite on the neck. "Oh shit, baby. What a sweet little ass. It's about time I got me some of this." I still wasn't sure whether Kiante knew how to grovel for me since I hadn't really punished him yet. My tried and true system didn't care if a kid seemed to be completely submissive to start with but required a learning curve of punishment followed by obedience. It's just common sense that the more punishment you give a kid, the more cooperative and submissive he's going to be. I'd thought about it overnight and decided, why fuck with a good program? A program that works every time. Submissive and cooperative or not, I decided to go ahead with the discipline program and make sure he was sufficiently docile to meet my needs. There was also another good reason for some `Davon discipline' because the little prick was obviously full of himself. He thought he was a perfect slave, and he was proud of it and seemed to think that I should be thrilled with his actions. I had to knock that out of his head immediately. No way was any slave of mine going to think he could satisfy me by pretending to be a perfect little slave. One thing was clear; he didn't fear me enough yet, but that was going to change right now. Standing behind him I pulled his hands back and pulled them up hard, lifting him almost off his feet. "Yeeeaaaoooh" he screamed which got a chuckle from me. I'd finally got his attention. Grabbing him by the shoulders I jerked him around and slammed him against the wall. Now you gotta remember that I'm 6'4" and Kiante's 5'7" and I have 248 pounds of bulging rock hard muscle on this body while he probably weighs in at 125 or so, so you might say I had a bit of an advantage. Putting one big paw around his neck and pressing him against the wall, I lifted him off his feet, so he was just dangling there, and finally I saw something I liked; a look of fear on his face. "Fuckin little shit" I growled at him. "You think you deserve to be here with Davon? You think you're good enough to serve me? Baby, you ain't shit." With that I spit a big wad of saliva into his face hitting him just above his right eyebrow. "I'm going to show you what it means to serve, you worthless little worm." Still holding him up off his feet with one hand, I flexed the other arm in his face, forcing the huge bicep to swell up to its full nineteen-inch size. Giving him a big smile, I turned my head and gave that bicep a big smack. "Little worm like you, you don't deserve to even touch these muscles" I growled, and still holding him up off the floor, I gave him one hell of a shake and then let him drop back to his feet. His face was bright red from being strangled so I let go of him and gave him an opened handed slap to the face. (wack) I wasn't gentle. And now he really screamed: "yeeeaaooh." I'd damn near knocked him over with that slap, so I grabbed him by the hair, pulled him back up and backhanded him. And he screamed again and started crying. "No, please" he cried. "master, Please, master." As I let go of his hair he dropped to his knees, put his face to the floor and reached around me, hugging my ankles. "Please, please" he whimpered. "master, no. Please no." Okay, so you remember my training program? Punishment followed by obedience? It looked like I was there already, although it was clear that he was way-way overreacting, because I know I didn't hit him that hard. But I was now getting through to him. Mission accomplished. I kicked his hands away, walked over and sat down at the desk. "I own you, you little shit" I snarled at him. "Yes, master, yes, master, yes, master" he sobbed. He was really crying now and lying flat on the floor with his face in his arms. He was acting completely hysterical, but I knew it was an act. I wanted to hurt him, and I did, but not near as much as he was pretending. And that was annoying the hell out of me. If he didn't stop with this `I'm hurt, I'm hurt' bullshit he was going to find out what it really meant to be hurt. "Shut the fuck up" I growled at him. I picked up my cell and started making some calls. He kept whimpering softly for the next ten minutes or so when I finally walked over to him. He was still lying face down on the floor, his face in his hands. I pressed my bare foot against the side of his face. "I told you that you were a low life piece of shit, didn't I? Didn't I?" "Yes, master" he whimpered. "So now you know what you are. You're less than a piece of shit to me. You hear that?" "Yes, master." As I lifted my foot from his face, he turned his head to look up at me and I finally saw what I'd been waiting to see. Fear. Finally. It was no longer a game for him, just pretending to be a good slave. I believe he was afraid of me now and would obey me through fear from now on instead of just obligation. That's what I wanted. So, there we were. This was my game, and it only took about a half hour, but I knew I was going to get endless return on that half hour investment. I'd knocked that chip off his shoulder, and he was going to be a serious slave from now on. Oh, I know he wasn't all the way there yet, but a few more sessions of ass kicking should get him with the program. "It's time, babe" I said. "Get over here." He stayed on his knees and crawled over to me and looked up at me with tears streaked all over his face. "Yes, master?" he whispered, still sniffling softly. I pulled my towel open and spread my legs wide. "Party time, baby. Come to daddy" I said. Comments appreciated. ddcolwell@live.com gladiatorkid@hotmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/davon-white-superstud/davon-white-superstud-6

Date: Sat, 22 Jun 2024 11:47:13 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter 6 This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black muscleman with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with consensual and nonconsensual sex between characters. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Six Free at last. I was out of prison. And what a way to go. Jamal had sent a limo to pick me up at the prison gates. Not twenty bucks and go catch a bus, but a long sleek white limousine being driven by a white guy wearing a chauffeur's cap. The chauffeur held the door while I climbed in next to Jamal. "Welcome back boss" he said as he gave me a kiss on the lips. Jamal was a big guy. Really big, with massive muscles everywhere, almost equal to mine. And he was gay. Totally butch and totally gay. Jamal was a control freak dominant, almost like me, but was more into big mature guys rather than teenagers like I was. He was a total top except with me and he and I had been fuck buddies before I was sent up. His cock was the only one I'd ever had in my mouth, and it was the only one had ever been up my ass as well. We were both massively muscled giants, who ruled over our gang with an iron fist. Nobody even considered messing with us. "It's good to see you, Davon" Jamal said with a smile. Shit, I loved that smile which I'd only seen occasionally on visiting days over the past three years. Maybe we'd have to consider getting back together. "You have no idea how good it feels seeing you again" I said with a laugh. "Free. Jesus Christ, I'm free. Has Carl got everything set up?" "Yeah, he's been working on it for a month and he's getting it together. Just wait until you see it" Jamal answered. "That's where we're headed now so we'll give you a chance to get settled in. Carl's there and so is Dwight and Kevin" Jamal laughed. "What the fuck you gonna do with three of them?" "Shit, I don't know" I laughed. "But it's gonna be fun figuring it out." Carl had been just about the best slave I'd had while in prison. A tiny little black boy with gorgeous light-colored skin. He was beautiful and he really was tiny. Probably about 5'6" while I was damn near a foot taller. He was a cocksucker extraordinary, totally obedient and reverential so I had Jamal pick him up when he was released a month or so ago. Jamal had gotten me a luxury apartment and Carl was a trained decorator so I was sure he would make the place look terrific. He was such a great slave that I decided to keep him around even thought we were now out of prison. Dwight was a muscle boy and a member of the `family'. A submissive muscle boy who Jamal and I shared sometimes before I went to prison. We'd had some great threesomes back then and I was looking forward to having some more. Dwight was a real muscle hunk. One of these guys who lived for the gym, but he was totally turned on and submissive to bigger muscle guys, like Jamal and me. I hadn't seen him for three years, but he'd bugged Jamal to let him join me on my first day out. Kevin was another of my fuck slaves from prison. He was an ornery little cuss, who never did turn into a decent servant, but he could take pain like nobody else and I loved fucking him. He thrived on pain and loved being roughed up when being fucked. Jamal knew me like a book and figured I'd probably want some rough sex from day one when I got out, so he had tracked Kevin down and held him for me. He was an exciting fuck but I didn't figure I'd keep him around for long. Now that I was free I was looking forward to getting some new boy-toys to keep me entertained. What about that Tajo kid?" "Yeah, the one that sent you up; we found him in Arizona. Raylon brought him back a couple days ago and he's been at his place. He's there whenever you want him." "Good. Let's lock him up someplace until I get around to him." "You're not going to hurt him are you? I mean, we don't want you back in prison again." "Hell yes, I'm gonna hurt him. That's why I want him. But I ain't gonna kill him if that's what you mean. Maybe I'll keep him around for a while for entertainment. As I remember it, he was a good fuck, and besides, you can never have too many slaves." Jamal and I both laughed at that. Tajo, of course, is the kid that sent me to prison. Yeah, I'd raped him, one of a long list of pretty Hispanic boy's I'd raped, and he was really hot. I'd taken him home and fucked him a couple times before I let him go, but I wasn't careful enough and he figured out where my house was and turned me in. When Raylon got to him and worked him over, he tried to drop the charges completely, but somebody'd seen me nab him in the park so there was a witness. Raylon convinced him to insist he wasn't raped, but only assaulted, so they reduced the charge, which only carried three years. But that doesn't mean I wasn't totally pissed that he dared turn me in in the first place. So what if the little fucker was straight? Just like all the others I'd raped, he was fuckin lucky to get it on with Davon White. I know it must have been exciting as hell for them to be raped by a demigod, and besides, I never left any permanent damage or visible scars or anything. None of the others had ever complained. Not once. Not even the fourteen-year-old girl I'd knocked up and her cute twin brother whom I'd kept around for three days of pleasure fucking. Three days I'd kept them, and they didn't say a word to anyone. Okay, so I paid for her abortion and Raylon threatened them with a painful death, but that was just standard procedure. Yeah, standard procedure. I'd rape them and when I finished having my fun, I'd give them a taste of the pain they'd suffer if they dared to open their mouths. Then I'd turn them over to Raylon, letting him put the fear-of-God in them. When Raylon was done, you better believe there was no chance they would ever say anything. That worked every time except for Tajo. He knew he was in trouble and left town, but I had Jamal track him down and bring him back. I wasn't going to hurt him, not much, but I just wanted the word to get around that there was hell to pay for anyone that fucked with Davon and the "Black Guerrilla Family'. We already made sure that the word had got around that we'd tracked him down in Arizona and brought him back. But the real truth is, Tajo was the most beautiful Hispanic kid I'd ever seen. I mean totally gorgeous. A perfect physical specimen with a face that just glowed. I just love light brown Hispanics with nice builds and asses that won't quit, just like Tajo. That was my favorite type, light brown skin on a Hispanic kid or a black kid, or even a white kid with a nice dark sun tan. But, hey, this is Davon White. Davon White, the super-stud. Davon White, the master. Davon White, the sex god, and when Davon White fucks, he only fucks the best. And Tajo was right up there near the top. We pulled up to a building on Fourth Street, and did I ever get an eyeful. It was a ninth story penthouse with enormous rooms having twelve-foot ceilings and floor to ceiling windows everywhere. Damn near six thousand square feet right in central Baltimore. One hell of a change from sharing a ten by twelve cell at the prison. And there to greet me in the entry hall were three pretty boys, all in the nude and lined up on their knees, and damned if they didn't all have big grins on their faces and were sporting roaring hard-ons. Shit. Talk about a welcome. Hell, it was so fuckin funny I started to laugh, and Jamal joined me, and then the three kids started giggling too. I mean, can you believe this shit? Three boy-toys all lined up, hot and ready, their dicks sticking out and throbbing, just waiting for some action with me. "Oh shit, Jamal" I laughed. "What the hell am I going to do with three of them?" "Have you ever tried three at a time?" he answered with a smile. I'd had threesomes with Jamal and even a foursome once, but I'd never had three beauties all wanting access to my cock at the same time. But the idea was a hell of a turn on, so I was willing to give it a try. "Up boys, and get something on" I said, laughing. "I can't deal with three gorgeous studs right now, but on my first day out I'm all horned up, so I'll get to you soon." Dwight and Kevin got up and left to get dressed, but Carl stayed behind. "Carl has something to show you" Jamal said. "Something he's been working on and just finished setting up yesterday." Carl came over and took my hand and, still sporting his hard-on, led me from the entrance hall into another hall. Shit, I was going to need a road map to find my way around this place. At the end of the hall Carl stopped, and putting on a flair, swept open the door and sang out `voil"`'. And there was a complete gym setup, all stainless-steel weights with mirrored walls, damn near as big as a public gym. "Holy shit" I said with a gasp. It was spectacular. Even though I got special benefits while in prison, I was still limited on the amount of time I could spend in the gym but starting now I intended to spend hours and hours working out every day. I told Jamal in advance that I intended to do nothing but work out and fuck for the next couple months, so he and Carl had really outdone themselves with this. "You like it" Carl said with a shy grin. "Damn straight, Carl. I love it." I grabbed him by the neck, pulled him over, and gave him a big kiss. "It's perfect" I said as I grabbed his ass, pulling him in tight with my crotch ramming into his belly. Carl was only about 5'6" so he barely reached my shoulders, and he had a tight little body which always turned me on. Hugging him to me with my hand groping his ass I lifted him off the floor, and grabbing him by the neck, turned his head sideways to get better access for my tongue. "Ah hum" Jamal said as Carl wrapped his legs round me and I lifted him up, so his still fully hard cock was pressed against my growing one. "I'll get out of here then and let you get settled in." I vaguely heard the door close as I jammed a finger in and out of Carl's tiny little bung hole. Dropping him to the floor and pushing him to his knees I stuck my finger under his nose letting him get a smell of his hot ass. Without any instruction from me he was at my pants and had the belt off and the pants open in seconds. He knew I liked having a guy worship my cock through my underwear, so he just yanked my pants down and jammed his face into my crotch and started kissing my cock through the thin cloth with a vengeance. I mentioned that Carl had been a perfect slave in prison, totally dutiful, but he had also fallen madly in love with me, so that had always made his fawning worship even more dynamic. And I was now hard. Carl had always been a terrific fuck and seeing him again brought back great memories, so I was really hot for him. Reaching down and grabbing the band of my underwear, with bulging muscles I ripped it in two and let the tatters fall to the floor. Carl was ready and took my monster deep into his mouth and started to force it into his throat. But I was too hot to wait. I was almost there already. Yeah, that quick. The thrill of being out of prison and the surprise of seeing this glorious apartment and having three pussy boys on their knees wanting to be used was just too much. I pushed his head back off my cock and rammed him back into my balls as I got my fist on it and started jerking it hard and fast. Hey, I ain't never had no shortage of jism so I could cum five, six, eight times in a day if I wanted to, and today was going to be one of those days that I wanted to. I banged my rod against Carl's face a few times as he lapped away at my balls. Then I grabbed his hair and started humping my crotch into his face and started jerking my cock again. I was kinda bouncing up and down, flexing my knees in anticipation of my orgasm, dragging Carl up and down with me. I mean, when I get hot, I get crazy. Slamming Carl on the back of his head, getting a squeal from him, I dragged his head back and fired my first shot of cum directly into his right eye. "Oooooh Shhhiiiiiit" I screamed as I jerked Carl's head back and forth violently and uncontrollably, as I went through the throes of my orgasm and fired burst after burst into his face. Carl was trying to get my cock in his mouth, but I was dragging his head around so much, he couldn't catch it. But then, he finally latched on to it, sucking hard as I discharged the last couple bursts into his mouth. As my orgasm ended, I looked around for someplace to sit and saw a weightlifting bench. But as I headed over to it Carl grabbed hold of my legs, keeping my cock in his mouth and held on. So, I walked over to the bench dragging him along with me with my still hard prick in his mouth. "Shit, Carl, you are something else" I said with a laugh as I sat down. Carl looked up at me and seemed to be trying to smile, which was remarkable with his mouth stretched around my gargantuan prick. I just sat on the bench relaxing for a few minutes while I calmed down and got my breath back. Carl kept my cock in his mouth but did not try any fancy tricks like deep throating and stuff, but just kept up an easy suck as I slowly softened. "That's enough, Carl" I finally said after ten minutes or so. Carl pulled back letting my cock pop out of his mouth, and then bent down and kissed each of my feet. Obviously, he still remembered his training on how to be Davon White's perfect slave. Looking back up at me he said: "Thank you, Davon. I've been looking forward to that." And now I got a big smile from him. Smiling back, I bent down and gave him a light peck on the lips. Then I rubbed my hand across his face collecting my cum in my hand. Carl stuck out his tongue and started licking my hand and sucking on my fingers until they were completely clean. "Thank you, Davon" he said. "You forgot how to say master?" "I'm sorry, master, sir. I did forget, master. I'm sorry. Forgive me, master. Will you fuck me, master?" He said this all-in-one breath. I had to laugh at that, but Carl knew me very well and was aware of my amazing stamina and figured I was probably ready to go again. And I was. "Get back on my cock" I said. He immediately swallowed it. I let him suck me for a couple minutes, seriously this time, to get my hard-on back, and then lifted him up off the floor and put him on the bench. Throwing his legs up in the air, I jammed my prick into his tight little hole and started fucking. I'd gotten the edge off from jerking off, so I wasn't in any great hurry to cum now. I intended to drag it out as long as possible and really enjoy it. So, I fucked him for the next forty-five minutes, and since Carl was so small, most of that was me walking around the gym looking in the mirrors as I bounced him up and down on my big prick. ----------- It wasn't until the next morning that Jamal and Raylon brought Tajo over. I'd slept, or should I say `not slept' with Dwight and Kevin. Both of them were very much into muscle worship, which of course is one of my favorite activities, so I had two sets of lips and two tongues working my body for hours. In-between times I fucked Kevin twice and Dwight once and they shared giving me a blowjob. Kevin was not going to be able to sit down for a couple days, but Dwight probably wasn't either. I had intended to fuck both of them again this morning and planned to sleep in on my first day of freedom, but Jamal and Raylon arrived too early. I was still in just my jockey shorts when I met them in the entrance hall. Tajo's hands were cuffed behind him, and he had a black cotton bag over his head when Raylon brought him in. "I haven't touched him yet, Boss. He's just been sitting in the basement for two days. You want I should work him over for you?" "No, not now, Raylon. Let me mess around with him for a while and then we'll see. Check with me this afternoon." "Okay, Boss" he said as he removed the hand cuffs. "See you later." Jamal stopped just before closing the door. "Take the day off, Davon. Have fun. You've got plenty of boys to keep you entertained. We'll get to work tomorrow." I stepped up to Tajo and pulled the bag off his head and saw there was duct tape over his mouth and a look of fear in his eyes. I ripped the tape off and got a yelp from him. "Hello Tajo" I said with a smile. "We meet again." "Davon, please" he said and dropped to his knees in front of me. "I tried to get the charges dropped. I really did. You know I did, Davon. You saw me at the trial. Please, man. I'm sorry. Please, Davon. I didn't mean for you to go up." Tajo really was a gorgeous kid and that's why I'd raped him in the first place. I'd seen him in the park, and he'd turned me on so much that I'd fucked him there in the bushes and then taken him home for two more days of pleasure. He'd only been fifteen then, so he must be eighteen or nineteen now. He still looked fifteen and he was still gorgeous. I just smiled down at him for a moment, and then let him have it with an open hand to the face. He went sprawling and yelling. "Nooooo. Pleeeeese." "Shut the fuck up" I said as I grabbed him by the hair and jerked him back to his knees. "I'm not going to kill you, Tajo, at least not yet. But you owe me. You owe me three years of my life. And I'm gonna get some of that back." "Davon, I really tried to stop it. They wouldn't listen. Talk to Raylon, he'll tell you. Please, Davon." Now he started to cry. I think he really believed I was going to kill him. Grabbing a handful of hair, I forced him to crawl as I dragged him down the hall to the `dungeon'. Yeah, we had a dungeon in this place. It was originally supposed to be a projection room, or home theater or something with no windows, so it was perfect for a dungeon. Carl had painted it black and had every type of leather torture device you can imagine hanging from the walls. I wasn't really into that shit, but it looked great and was going to be scary as hell to any kid I brought in here. I'd been angry when I was sent up and spent hours imagining what I was going to do to Tajo when I got out, but now, after three years, I really didn't give a shit anymore. I just wanted to forget this kid and forget prison and get on with my life. "Kiss my feet and beg me to forgive you" I growled at him. "Please, Davon. Please, please, please" he cried, and he grabbed both my ankles and started madly kissing my bare feet. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please, Davon. Please." I kicked him in the face and then putting my foot on his chest, pushed him over backwards. He'd brought his hands to his face and his nose was bleeding and he looked up at me with a look of total terror. Without a word I reached into the flap of my jockeys and pulled out my prick. Taking aim, I started to piss. I'd already taken my morning piss, so my bladder wasn't overloaded, but I still had plenty to wash the blood off his face and soak him from top to bottom. Tajo didn't say a word and neither did I as I put my prick away and walked out of the room. "Carl" I yelled, and Carl seemed to pop out of nowhere. "Yes, Boss?" "Give that Tajo kid back to Raylon and tell him to throw him out. I'm through with him." "Sure, Boss" Carl answered. ---------- So, there I was, free from prison, with a fabulous workout gym and fuck boys all over the place, with no obligations except to consult with Jamal a couple times a day. But that lasted for only a couple weeks. By then Kevin had left and Dwight was working so he was in and out, but I fucked him and Carl pretty regularly, and I'd gone out cruising and had picked up a trick now and then, so I was keeping my prick semi-occupied. I was having amazing workouts, sometimes twice a day and spent most afternoons with my cock in somebody's mouth or a tongue working over my body. But something was missing, and Jamal and Raylon recognized what it was even before I did. Rape! Call it a fetish it you want, but it was like being a drug addict and I was getting desperate for a fix. With my awesome muscular body and handsome face, I could pick up most anyone at any time and have my way with them. I was so hot that cruising for me was like a five-minute affair, and my tricks, even the butchest ones were submissive and literally begged me to be as rough as I wanted with them. But it wasn't rape. Rape is finding a really pretty kid and just helping myself. Taking him against his will, working him over and terrorizing him, forcing his total submission, and then fucking the absolute shit out of him. That's what got my juices flowing. Raylon was the first to recognize how antsy I was getting and set up a possible solution. He had already agreed to support my `rape' habit when I really needed it by bringing me possible candidates to work on, so without me even saying anything, he dropped by the gym as I was finishing my workout. Wearing my regular snug white trunks with just a towel around my neck I was setting on a bench dripping with sweat, but looking like a god damn superman with every muscle on my body pumped to the max. And let me tell you, Davon White, with his astonishing muscles, looks pretty damn awesome after a hard workout. "You know Cheryl Couture, the pinup girl?" he asked. "You mean Miss Baltimore?" I answered. "Yeah, that's her, the beauty queen. It seems that she has a drug problem and I've been loosening the leash on her for a couple weeks now, so she's in deep and really desperate." "Oh, yeah" I smiled because I knew Raylon's technique. "So what? You fucking her?" "Come on, Davon" he laughed. "She's a twenty-two-year-old white girl and a beauty queen, for god's sake. She's not only gorgeous with enormous bazookas just the way I like `em, but she gives head like you wouldn't believe." I laughed along with him because Raylon was my enforcer and at 6'6" and 310 pounds he was an absolute giant of a guy, and with enormous muscles and jet-black skin color, I could just about picture him with this petite little blond beauty queen. "Yeah, I bet she gives good head, and good ass too" I chuckled. "So, you set her up and got her on the string, did you? So what?" "It's the boyfriend that I wanted to tell you about. Blond kid, sixteen or seventeen, gymnastics champ at his high school. Young bodybuilder, he's going to enter the teenage Mr. Baltimore this year. He's kind of tiny just like her, about 5'6" or 5'7" but he's a really good-looking kid." "So she goes for young ones" I said with interest. "Only sixteen? But he sure sounds like my type. What about him?" "He's here, in the living room, right now" Raylon said with a laugh. "I told you Cheryl was desperate. I don't know what she told him about coming here, but once I suggested it, she was perfectly willing to offer him up if I'd keep her going on her favorite party drug. I thought it'd be worth a few bucks to keep stringing her along and keep her happy, which will keep my cock happy, and give you something that'll make you happy. What'da'ya think?" "Sounds perfect to me" I laughed. "Perfect. Cheryl's okay with this?" "Hell, she's more than okay. She begged me to let her watch." We both had to laugh at this. "But he knows us and knows he's here" I said. "How do we deal with that." "That's the best part" he answered with a chuckle. "Wait till you see this video." Pulling out his phone, Raylon started a video of a kid performing in a yard with a house in the background. He was a blond, blue eyed bundle of muscle wearing only tiny posing shorts, who was flexing those muscles and doing spectacular gymnastics exercises; flips and jumps and handstands; he was really amazing. The close-up's showed a superman tattoo on his right pec, and a young boyish face that was truly beautiful. Almost superhumanly beautiful. I'd seldom seen anyone with such perfect `movie star' features. "Here's where I spliced it" Raylon said. The screen went dark for a second and then changed to a little girl, maybe five or six years old, or even younger, wearing only underpants. From close-up she was giggling and looking at the camera when a big hard dick suddenly appeared in the frame, right in front of her face. "Isn't this fun, Sarah" the voice said as the cock was bounced against her nose a couple times? The little girl only giggled. Then the camera angle changed, and you saw a spectacularly muscled blond kid holding his cock in the girls face and starting to jerk it like mad. The kid was wearing a `Lone Ranger' type mask, but the muscular build and the superman tattoo on his chest was like a DNA test. There was no doubt this was the same kid that had been doing the gymnastic exercises. "Oh, shit" I laughed. "That kid is really fucked. What an incredible idiot." "Yeah, total idiot" Raylon laughed. "But there it is. He likes little girls, pre-adolescent girls. That's his seven-year-old sister in that picture, but I have another one with her and some other kid, probably a cousin or something. He likes jerking off in their faces. He's wearing that silly mask, but with those pretty lips and hunky body, and that superman tattoo, there ain't no doubt about who it is. And the idiot filmed it." "Oh, man" I laughed some more, and Raylon joined it. "Stupid fuckin kid, setting himself up like that." "Here's the really funny part, Davon. Cheryl gave me these video's so I could set him up, just so I'd keep her in `shit' for another couple weeks. I've taken her ass and now she's giving up her boyfriend, so I don't know what she's going to give up next. Maybe her mother." We both got a good laugh from that. "Oh shit" I said trying to control my laughter. "So, does this kid know you're on to him?" "Yeah, I showed this to him this morning." "And?" "Well, I ran a little test. I pretended to be interested in his dick, so he jerked off for me. Stupid shit, thinking I'd be interested in a white boy's weenie. I kicked his ass for that. So, anyway, he's malleable and ready for you. I slapped him around a bit and made it clear if he was sufficiently servile to you, you might let him off easy. He ain't happy about it but I made it clear to him that you're going to fuck him, and he was damn well going to thank you for it when you're done. "Okay Raylon, okay. You got me all hotted up, but it's not ...." "I know it's not the same as a real rape" he said, "since I've already worked him over for you. But he wasn't willing when he got here this morning. And I'm sure he's a virgin." "Okay" I said, "but I've got to take a shower." "Hell no" Raylon said. "Make him do it. Hell, let me film it. I'd love to see him licking the sweat off those pumped up muscles of yours." "Good idea, Raylon. At least the sweat thing. I love blond boys licking my muscles." "Wait a minute" he said. "Here's a thought. Why not take Cheryl and him at the same time? Two blond twinks worshiping all those sweaty muscles would be totally awesome. She knows you're the Boss and she's been trying to meet you for ages, probably hoping you'd be easier on her than I am. You'd be amazed what that blond bitch can do with her mouth" he said with a laugh. "Hell, I'm willing to share her with you, and I'd love to film it. That'd make a great video. Wha'da'ya think?" "Don't get carried away, Raylon. Just show me the young stud and we'll go from there" I said, licking my lips in anticipation. Of course, this conversation was making me hotter than hell. My pecker had perked up and was showing a huge mound stretching off to the left in my tight shorts. ------- "Boss, meet Cheryl Couture, the winner of this year's Miss Baltimore" Raylon said as we entered the living room. "Cheryl, this is Davon White, my Boss and head of the `Black Guerrilla Family" "Nice to meet you, Mr. White" she said as she stood and shook my hand and gave me this absolutely dazzling smile. She was a beauty queen alright. I would call her ravishing. "Mr. Clark has told me a lot about you." Nice manners, but knowing Raylon, he probably beat it into her. "And here is your fuck boy" Raylon said pointing to a terrified kid sitting on the sofa wearing only a pair of white bikini underwear. "Get on your knees" he growled, and the boy instantly dropped to his knees in front of us. "Jimmy wants to be your fuck boy, don't you Jimmy?" "Yes, sir" he said, his voice shaking. "I want to be your fuck boy, sir." I noticed his eye was slightly swollen and what looked like a bruise on his cheek, so he'd obviously been well coached by Raylon, but it was nice hearing him being so servile right off the bat. He looked even better than in the video, because he'd obviously put on some more muscle since that video was made. Tiny little compact muscle boy, he had the makings for winning body beautiful contests. I walked over to him, took hold of his hair, and pulled him against the enormous lump in my shorts. "You want this, Jimmy? You want Davon White's big black dick?" "Ahhh... sir. Please... ahhh..." "Answer him" Raylon snapped at him. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir" Jimmy quickly answered. "Yes, sir, what?" Raylon growled. "Yes, sir, I want his... ahhh... I want your big dick." Holding tightly to his hair, I pushed my big pole against his lips and dragged his head back and forth against it. "Get it wet, fuck boy" I ordered, and he opened his mouth and began sucking. "Yes, sir" he mumbled. "You gonna stay, Raylon?" I asked. "Yes, sir, if it's okay with you" he answered. "Okay, but keep her quiet" I said nodding towards Cheryl. "Come sit on my lap, Cheryl" Raylon said as he sat down in a wing chair. "Get that pretty ass over here." "Yes, Mr. Clark" she responded and giggled as she got on his lap. And what a picture they made. This enormous 310-pound coal black African-American with a 118 pound blond beauty queen leaning back against his gigantic chest. She looked more like a doll than a person sitting there on his huge frame. "We're just going to watch, honey, so don't talk. You say one word and I'm going to have to gag you, and you know what I'm going to gag you with." He laughed and Cheryl giggled along with him. He put his huge hands around her getting two handfuls of enormous DD-cup beauty queen breasts, and then nuzzled her neck. "Whose putting on the show here, Raylon?" I chuckled. "You or me?" "Sorry, Boss. Sorry. I'll behave" he said. Now back to the boy. He was really spectacular, I mean out of this world gorgeous, as only a muscle bound sixteen-year-old can look. Actually, from his face you'd think he was only twelve, but from his muscular body you'd think at least twenty-one. He didn't have the brown coloring I like but he was as pretty as Tajo but with an amazing physique as well. Still holding his hair, I turned around and pulled his face into my ass. The white shorts were soaked through from my workout and almost invisible as I dragged his face back and forth against them. "Kiss it, baby. Kiss your black master's ass." Without a word he started kissing my big bubble butt as I maneuvered his face back and forth against the damp cloth a couple times. I was really impressed with Raylon. He must have really put the screws to this kid to get him so docile in only one morning. "Okay, now take my shoes off," I said, and Jimmy removed my Reeboks, and after a nod from me, the socks as well. "Now kiss those feet. Show Davon how much you want to worship him." Without any hesitation Jimmy started laving my feet with kisses, moving around and trying to cover every inch. No doubt, Raylon was the best damn enforcer around to be able to subjugate this kid like this. "I'm all sweaty from my workout, Jimmy" I said as I lay down on the sofa on my back. "Be a good boy and lick this sweat off me. Start with my armpit" I said as I raised my left arm showing him my sopping pit. He just looked at me for a moment with a kind of a bewildered look, without moving. "Move it" I growled at him, and he jumped to obey, crawling over to me and hesitantly sticking his nose into my armpit. I put my hand behind his head and jammed him in. "Suck it, boy" I snapped. "Suck that sweaty armpit." "Oh, man" he whined in dismay. I grabbed his left arm and quickly twisted it behind his back and yanked it up to his shoulder blades. He howled in pain. "Do it, you little shit before I break your fucking arm" I shouted at him. "Do it." "Okay, okay, okay" he squealed as he started licking at my armpit. "Don't piss me off, little boy" I growled as I gave his arm another jerk getting another howl out of him. "You do what you're fuckin told and you do it fast." "Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Please, sir" he cried. "I'll do it." Now he started putting some energy into his sucking and buried his whole face in my smelly pit. As he went to town on my pit, I could almost feel a drop in my anxiety level. I hadn't raped a kid outside of prison for over three years, and now that it was finally happening, I not only felt an immediate drop in my angst but a big boost in my excitement level. Fucking is always fun and exciting, but rape is on a whole different level of enjoyment. Just the idea of doing it; I mean, for god's sake, I hadn't done anything to this kid yet, but just the idea of raping him, taking him against his will, seemed to be the perfect therapy to what was ailing me. I mean, shit, talk about a fast-acting tonic, this was it. I dropped his arm, grabbed his hair and pulled him to my chest. "Suck up that man sweat, baby, and worship your man's chest." He didn't argue but started half-heartedly licking my left pec which was not at all what I was willing to accept. Still holding his hair, I pulled his head up and slapped him. "Yeaoh" he yelled. "Put some energy into to it, you little shit. I say suck, you damn well suck." I slapped him again on the same cheek. "Do it!" I barked at him. He was sobbing now but I'd got his attention, and he started kissing and slobbering and sucking my pec like crazy. You gotta understand that rape by its very nature is violent, at least the way I practice it. This kid could be the most obedient and slavish kid on the planet, and I'd still punish him, demanding servile perfection that was well beyond his ability to perform. I love raping guys and I love controlling them and sometimes hurting them, so putting those things together gave me the intoxicating gratification that I was looking for. "Other side, you piece of shit" I growled at him "and rub your god damn nose in that sweat." Instant obedience this time, so he was trying to please me. "Armpit" I said after a bit. "Bury your face in there." As I lifted my right arm he moved to my pit and gave it a lick. I grabbed his head with my big paw and twisted and pushed it, mashing his nose and face into my armpit. "Put some energy into it, you stupid fuck. Work at it." Now he was beginning to understand what I was demanding of him as he started loudly slobbering and sucking. I not only expected instant obedience from a kid, I expected frantic devotion to my needs every second and I was not going to be satisfied until he was on the edge of panic at every moment as he worshiped. He did seem to be in a panic mode now as he slobbered and sucked frantically at my armpit. I let him go at it for a couple minutes before I grabbed his hair and pulled him up about eight inches above my face and just held him there. He was bleary eyed, not quite focusing, his face covered with sweat and spit, a total mess. I waited a couple seconds until he could focus on me with a look of fear on his face before I spit on him; hitting him right between the eyes and watching it drip down his nose unto my chest. "Suck it up" I ordered as I pulled his face down to my chest. Without hesitation he licked up my spit. Pulling him back up and holding him there for twenty or thirty seconds, allowing him to get even more terrified, I gave him a big smile and spit again, hitting him on the upper lip and watched it drip on my chest again. He had a look of dread on his face as I made him lick it up. He didn't know what I'd come up with next, but he knew it was going to be bad. "Tell me you're a worthless piece of shit" I instructed. "Tell me." "Ahhh... sir?" he responded. I gave his head a violent shake and yelled: "SAY IT." "Ahhh... sir... I'm a worthless piece of shit, sir" he mumbled, his voice shaking. "Master" I growled. "Master" he whimpered. Raising my legs, I reached down, pulled my wet shorts off and tossed them aside. Grabbing Jimmy again by the hair, I pushed him down to my crotch. "Suck that sweat out of my crotch, boy" I growled. "Suck it up." As I let go of him, he instantly dove in, ramming his face into my crotch and sucking the sweat out of my crotch hair. "Slobber on it, fuck boy" I said. "Get it wet and wash it with that pretty tongue." I gave him another slap to the back of the head as encouragement, and now he really did go at it, slobbering and licking and sucking up a storm in my smelly crotch. My cock was fully hard, and he was jamming his face against it, but when he started to lick it, I gave him another slap. "Not my cock, you dumb shit. You do only what I fuckin tell you." Raylon had taught Jimmy to obey this morning, but that was only step one because I was now teaching him to give instant response to my demands and mindless devotion to my needs. I gave Raylon a dirty look as I heard another giggle from Cheryl in the background. He'd stripped her and had unzipped and pulled out his big schlong, and I could see the head sticking out between her legs where he had fitted it into her ass crack. Right now, he stuck three fingers into her mouth to shut her up and put one of her hands on the end of his prick to give her something to do while she watched. Pulling Jimmy's head up by the hair, I aimed my cock and pressed the head against his lips. "Kiss" was all I said and that's what he did. No lick, no suck, just kisses on the tip. Over and over. "Look at me" I said. His face and hair were a mess, covered with saliva and sweat, but it was still an incredible turn-on to see him as he looked up at me with that pretty face and those beautiful blue eyes, gently giving loving kisses to the head of my big black dick. Now, my cock is massive, a good ten-inches long and almost seven-inches in circumference, so I knew this kid wouldn't be capable of handling it, but this was a rape. During a rape I don't worry too much about the kid I'm raping and if he has to suffer some to serve me, that just makes it more erotic and satisfying. I never inflict any permanent damage on a kid, but he sure as hell will know when I'm done that he's been raped by the roughest, toughest, most demanding black master in the state. "Breathe" I said as I grabbed his head with both hands and slammed him down on my monster, hitting the back of his throat, and then beyond, forcing my enormous bludgeon all the way in until my pubes were jammed tight against his face. I screamed in pleasure as I pulled back out only seconds later. Oh shit yeah, this was what rape was all about. Jimmy went into convulsions', and I hoped he hadn't had much breakfast this morning. Hacking and coughing and vomiting up mostly clear saliva, he spewed it all over my crotch and the sofa. I gave him a long time to recover, at least three minutes or so before I made him slurp up most of what he'd spit out. I knew I wasn't going to be able to face fuck him, he'd never be able to handle it, but I absolutely loved the feel of his convulsions as I rammed in all the way the first time, so I had to do it again. Sitting up now, and pulling him between my legs, I again grabbed his head with both hands and pushed him down slowly, slowly, slowly, cramming my bludgeon deeper and deeper into him, feeling the tightness as I hit his throat and kept going, forcing inch after inch into him until his nose was mashed firmly into my crotch again. He was struggling and trying his damndest to stop me, but I wasn't about to let him go. I could feel his scream against my cock as he panicked and tried frantically to pull away. Then he started choking and his throat convulsing, squeezing the hell out of my prick and giving me incredible feelings of unbelievable delight. His eyes were wide open, his face was red, and I could still feel him screaming against my cock as he was beating at me with his fists, totally panic stricken. I spread my legs and jerked his head in even harder, cramming another half inch deep into his throat and just held him there for five, ten, even fifteen seconds of unbelievable euphoria. As I let go of him, he fell back on the floor choking and gasping and crying, heaving up tons of saliva as he frantically tried to regain his breath. I started playing with my dick, keeping it hard as I watched him moaning and crying and trying to get his breath back. I couldn't remember the last time I got such a fabulous feeling from a really tight throat, and I wanted more, but I knew it would turn into a disaster and I probably wouldn't enjoy it, him being a virgin and not able to handle it. "Fuck boy" I finally growled at him. He looked up at me, crying softly, with snot dripping from his nose and tears and spit smeared all over his face. When he saw me, his eyes went wide in horror because he not only saw a giant muscle dick sticking up still waiting for him, but he saw the biggest, brightest grin on my face and could hear me chuckling with delight. He now realized that his agony was giving me one hell of a lot of pleasure. "Get your ass up here." Knowing he had no choice he got back on his knees and crawled between my legs. "You're a piece of shit, fuck boy" I said and gave him a slap on the face, just enough to sting. Then I just glared at him for a minute. "Awk... " he said, or tried to say something through his sore throat. "Suck my cock" I ordered him and just waited. He was obviously terrified to the point of stupefaction and literally paralyzed with fear, and he didn't know what to do. "NOW" I snapped at him. I just waited another moment and then the grin on my face got even bigger as he leaned in and took my cock in his mouth. I almost shouted aloud in elation as I relished the total slavish submission of this kid, now willing to do anything, absolutely anything to satisfy Davon White's twisted desires. He was now no more than a zombie to my needs and willing to accept any pain or degradation, so there was no limit on what I could do to him. This is why I'm addicted to rape. I didn't plan to have him suck me off, I just wanted to prove to him that he would willingly allow me to damn near choke him to death if I wanted too. I didn't force him or even touch him as he started sucking my dick again. He wasn't taking it deep into his throat, but he was gagging and choking some as he tried to force it in as far as possible, trying his damndest to keep me happy. There ain't nothing quite like having a first-time cocksucker almost strangling himself on my prick, totally terrorized and willing to do anything to try to please me. Reaching over his back I grabbed his underwear and ripped them apart. He was still crying but now he started moaning as well as I groped both of his firm little buns with my hands. This is always the final chapter to a rape, taking a hot virgin ass. An inexperienced cocksucker can only give a guy just so much pleasure, but a tight little boy ass doesn't need any experience and can give almost unlimited satisfaction. Pulling his face off my cock, I grabbed him and dragged him up across my lap. Putting my hand on his head and mashing the side of his face into the sofa cushion, I started squeezing and pinching his cute little ass cheeks. "Sweet little ass, baby boy" I laughed. "And I'll bet there ain't been a prick in there before, neither. I know there ain't been a big black dick like this one in there." Then I gave him a good swat getting a grunt from him. I'm really partial to white boys with all-over sun tans, but since Jimmy had a tan line and a milky white ass, I was going to have to make do with a red one. I gave him a firm slap on the other cheek, and he yelped again. I had been so focused on Jimmy that I hadn't paid any attention to Raylon. As I glanced over at them, I saw that they were both naked and I have to say I wasn't surprised. No way was Raylon going to calmly watch me fuck this kid while he had a hot super model on his lap. Cheryl was still on his lap, but now she was facing him, and his big dong was no longer under her, but obviously in her. She had her hands on his massive shoulders and was humping slowly up and down on his pole and moaning as she went. She was obviously a lot more interested in the big black dick up her cunt than she was in what I was doing with her boyfriend. Raylon saw me looking and gave me a big smile and flexing his muscular arm pushed Cheryl's face up against his bulging bicep. "Kiss it, bitch" he whispered in her ear. I'd never been easy on my bitches either, but Raylon got away with almost anything and they loved it when he treated them like shit and talked dirty to them. Cheryl was still humping but she was now worshiping the crap out of Raylon's bulging bicep and moaning even louder than before. Jimmy, of course, put his hands behind him trying to protect his ass, but I simply pulled them above his head and held them there with one big paw. Now this kid, as a gymnast and bodybuilder, was muscular with particularly big biceps but there was no way he had any chance of getting loose from Davon White. "No, no, no. Please" he cried. "No, man. No." I had to laugh as he struggled frantically to get his hands free, but it was child's play for me with my strength to hold him with just one hand. "You belong to Davon, baby" I laughed. "Ownership, baby. Ownership. I own that sweet ass of yours and you can bet that Davon White knows what to do with it." I wasn't too hard on him, but then again, I wasn't easy either. I gave him five or six swats on each cheek, getting them a nice cherry red and making them look totally fuckable. Jimmy was weeping and moaning now but had given up the struggle of trying to get his hands loose. He must have said `please' fifty times, probably meaning `please stop' but then again, they all say that, and I must admit I like it. I hear them squealing and crying and I know they ain't never gonna forget being fucked by Davon White. I mean, I've fucked dozens of boys over the past few years and every damn one of them has the memory of my big prick imprinted on their brain. Ain't nobody ever forgets they been fucked by Davon White. Cheryl was making `oh, oh, oh' sounds now which was distracting, but my cock was hard, and Jimmy's ass was hot and ready. Getting a gob of spit, I let it drop on his little pucker and then popped a finger in. Spitting a couple more times I started slowly fucking my finger in and out of his bung hole. Jimmy was whimpering and sniffling but seemed to have accepted his fate, so I let go of his hands. He simply put his hands under his face and continued sobbing. After a minute or so with one finger, I forced a second one in, wiggled them around and stretched his hole. I was so turned on to this kid's beautiful ass that I was having trouble holding back from just ramming it to him. Hot white pretty boy with the sweetest little booty you can imagine, with tight little mounds of muscle just waiting to be split apart by my fuck stick. I squeezed those beautiful little cheeks a couple times, and then putting a hand under his crotch, lifted him up off my lap with one hand. And I kissed him. I planted a big smacker on each cheek and then stuck my tongue down into his crack and licked it a couple times. I was so fuckin turned on I couldn't stand it. I mean, you know the day I lick a kid's ass is the day I'm so hot I'm outa control. Flipping him over the arm of the sofa, I got around behind him and took aim. Jimmy wasn't going to like it, but I was way beyond being slow and gentle. I was going to fuck and fuck hard. Getting my knees between his legs and splitting them apart, I got my big dick right up against his little crack and pushed hard. He screamed and started thrashing around violently so I had to grab his arms again. I mean, he really screamed, so much so that it scared me. It sounded like I was killing him. But damn it, I was hot. "Shit" I yelled as I pulled back out. "Shit, shit, shit." I was actually pissed at myself for worrying about this little punk instead of my own needs. I know I'd already loosened him up good with my fingers, so he was just being a pussy. But I dropped another big gob of spit on his hole anyway for more lubrication and pushed back into him again. He howled this time too, but I was in him now, the enormous head of my dick was now crammed up his tight little chute and it was going to stay there. I gave him ten or fifteen seconds to adjust and then pushed in again. It was hard going because he was tight and the lubrication hadn't spread around yet, but it sure felt good. I simply ignored his yelling and crying as I pushed in some more, getting maybe four inches or so into him. I ignored him because, the fact is, they all scream when I ram my pecker into them. Hell, their asses never knew they were going to have to open this wide, and definitely weren't prepared for my monster forcing its way into their little chutes. Pulling back an inch or so, I started a slow fuck, in and out only an inch or two, just enjoying how really tight he was. He was still crying and begging me to stop but I didn't care. In fact, it kind-of brought a smile to my face, reminding me that this tight ass was virgin territory and right now it served no purpose other than giving me pleasure. No way was Jimmy ever going to forget his first fuck from Davon White. He started to loosen up a little as I continued the fuck, going slightly deeper with each thrust. The screaming had now changed to whimpering and I started whimpering too, in pleasure. "Please sir, please sir, please sir" he kept saying over and over as he whined and cried. I said I was ready for a quick fuck but ramming it to this kid would mean that he would not have a chance to fully adjust and have the pain go away, so he wouldn't get any pleasure out of it. But what the fuck, I'm supposed to worry about things like that? Was I supposed to worry about his pleasure? My pleasure center was focused on my dick and any empathy I had for this kid was buried in my dick as well, so I started to fuck. I wasn't buried all the way into him yet and I was determined to get there, so I pulled back and slammed it to him, forcing the final three inches deep into his ass in one thrust. He screamed bloody murder, but it didn't matter now because I was all the way in. Sick of listening to him scream, I grabbed a handful of hair and jammed his face down into the sofa cushion muffling him. Bending my knees slightly and forcing his legs even further apart, I spread his ass wide and rammed it to him. And then again, and again enjoying the buildup in my prick as I slowly reached my climax. At the last instant I jerked back out of him and dragged him down to the floor on his back and got on my knees just above his head. You think I wasn't hot: my first shot went all the way over him and landed between his legs. "Oh, fuck yeah" I screamed as my shots landed on his belly and then his chest, and finally on his chin. I just sat there on my haunches, my balls on his forehead and my prick in his face, breathing hard as I started to recover. The kid wasn't moving so just for the sheer joy of it, I slid forward and pushed my ass in his face. "Oh, Mr. White" I heard Cheryl cry. I looked over and saw she was on her hands and knees and Raylon was taking her from the rear, and she was obviously loving it. I smiled at her and wiggled my ass in her boyfriend's face. I think she was more turned by me sitting on his face than I was. I reached down and grabbed the boy's prick, and was surprised to find see that it was not only mostly hard, but it was loaded with pre-cum. I wondered if he'd cum with a hot black tush in his face. "Boy?" I said as I started jerking his cock. "Boy" I repeated. Then I heard a very muffled `master'. "Kiss my ass, boy. Yeah, kiss your master's ass." Totally under my power now, and without objection, he started kissing my ass. "That's it boy, keep it up." Now my ass is hard muscle and it ain't easy prying those cheeks apart, so I sat back some, forcing his face in the crack and giving access to his tongue. "Tongue it, baby" I said as I stroked his cock. "Tongue it." Totally obedient now, I felt his tongue start working my ass. And at the same time, I felt his cock begin to throb. Oh yeah, he was becoming a true masochist and was totally turned on by licking the ass of his black master. And then he came, shooting his spouge on my hand and up on his chest and stomach, mixing it with my cum that was already there. Yeah, I may be a rapist, but deep down in my heart I can be pretty damn considerate. I mean, I seldom ever touched a kid's dick when I was fucking him, and here I was actually turning this kid on by letting him to eat my ass, and unbelievably, jerking the little fucker off and getting his cum on my hand. He'd better appreciate it. But I'd check that out by giving him another go next week when I have Raylon bring him back for a rerun. I slid my ass back off his face, wiped my hand and my dick on his hair, and left the room. I heard Cheryl screaming in pleasure as I left. Please remember to support this great website so you can keep enjoying all these stories. Comments and compliments (and even complaints) appreciated. gladiatorkid@hotmail.com ddcolwell@live.com

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Date: Thu, 1 Aug 2024 13:18:47 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter 11 This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black muscleman with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with consensual and nonconsensual sex. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Eleven Wham! He hit me again. This was the second time he'd hit me since he'd been ramming his giant prick up my ass. But in fact, it was an incredible turn-on. Every time he hit me, a surge of fire shot from the tip of my cock throughout my body and into my pleasure centers. Yeah, pleasure. He was such a stud, so fuckin arrogant and dominant, such a god. Hey, I'm a muscle stud and a hot dominant myself, but I'm not even in the same category as Rad. He's in a whole different classification of dominant studs. I was absolutely, completely, unconditionally in awe of him. "You god damn little pussy" he yelled at me and hit me once more. I was crammed into the corner of the sofa with my head twisted at an uncomfortable angle and my ass up in the air while he, one foot on the floor and the other kneeling on the sofa, kept slamming his monster cock into my ass, damn near moving the heavy leather sofa with each thrust. This was the second time I'd been called to Rad's office to get fucked, and, if at all possible, he was even rougher than the first time. He loved beating guys up before he fucked them, while he fucked them, and after he fucked them. I was a dominate stud, definitely an Alpha, and my subs sometimes got slapped around and may have got a bruise or two while I was getting my pleasure from them, but it was secondary to my pleasure. But Rad did not hurt guys by accident, he did it deliberately and with great gusto. He loved beating up on guys while he was fucking them, maybe even more than the actual fuck itself. I mean, looking at his face and watching him laughing and gloating with such elation as he's beating the crap out of you is astonishing; and very, very, very hot. When Rad fucked you over, you knew you were going to be hurting in a lot more places than just in your ass and throat. When I arrived today, he just left me standing there in front of his desk for ten minutes or so, totally ignoring me as he kept reading some documents. I knew I didn't dare say anything, so I just stood there waiting with a roaring hard on, very excited about the rough fuck coming up. After that ten minutes he looked up at me, seemingly noticing that I was there for the very first time. Then he got up, walked around the desk, grabbed my shoulders and pushed me to the floor. Jerking my hair, he pulled me into his crotch, and slammed me in the back of my head three times with his fist, ramming me against his growing hard-on. With his fist. And that bulge in his pants suddenly became like a huge steel rod. "Strip" he said coldly as he walked back around the desk and opened a drawer. As I quickly removed my shoes, coveralls, wife-beater and underwear, he pulled out a flask and took a swig. Coming back around the desk, he slapped me, hard. Rad always hit hard. He didn't even understand the word gentle. "Why aren't you on your knees, cunt" he growled at me. I dropped to my knees instantly, bent down, and started kissing his shoes. He didn't tell me to, and it was fucking dangerous to do anything without his direction, but I hoped he'd accept my homage as an apology. He accepted it without comment. "Get my shoes off" he said as he leaned back against the desk. I quickly slipped them off. "My pants" he said. As I looked up and started to remove his belt, I saw he had unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. As I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, he stood up so I could pull them down over his massive thighs to the floor and let him step out of them. As I looked up, he pulled the t-shirt up and over his massive shoulders. Did I say massive? I meant gigantic. Rad was a muscle monster, with colossal muscles, but all in perfect proportion to his astonishing physique. He was about 6'6" and probably outweighed me by a hundred pounds. Yes, outweighed my two hundred sixty-three pounds with maybe another hundred pounds of titanic muscle. "My shorts" he said. Surprisingly he was wearing a tight pair of white spandex bikinis. Dominant muscle master or no, he was into fancy underwear which fit so snuggly around his enormous prick that it not only showed he was cut but clearly showed his piss slit and crotch hairs as well. His nine or ten inches was like a hunk of steel as it popped out from under the designer shorts as I pealed them off. As he stepped out of them, I knew what was coming. The last time I was here I'd barely got his shorts off when he'd jammed his enormous tool deep into my throat, mashing his crotch into my face, and just held it there. I'd held out as long as I could but when I was getting desperate to breathe, I'd tried to push him away and grabbed on to his thighs. He'd laughed for a moment, but as he let me off his cock, he'd slammed me to the floor, put a knee on my throat, and hit me in the face with his fist. "Don't you ever try to pull away from me again, you disgusting piece of slime" he'd growled menacingly at me as he spit in my face. Let me tell you that was a lesson learned; you get slugged and spit on like that you never forget it. The bruise on my face didn't go away for days. So now, as I put the shorts aside and raised back up, he grabbed my hair, aimed his cock, and pushed it in to the hilt, the entire thing deep into my gullet. Since I was expecting it, I had taken an enormous breath and now closed my eyes and just concentrated on not choking, and just trying to survive as best I could until he decided to let me go. I waited and waited, and it seemed like he was holding me there forever, so as I was getting desperate to breathe, I opened my eyes and glanced up. He was smiling down at me. Shit. That son-of-a-bitch was just waiting for me to panic. He was not going to let me go until I did panic. I closed my eyes again, swallowed twice, squeezing his gargantuan dick in my throat and begged. What was supposed to be `please, master' came out as `ugggg mugggg'. I hoped that the squeezing by my swallowing and the vibrating of my vocal cords against his prick might give him additional pleasure, so he'd let me go. I knew I was on the verge of blacking out, but I did not allow myself to lose-it and do something stupid like trying to get away or even trying to touch him. "Fucking little cocksucker" he said, and I heard him laugh as he pulled my head back. "You like that don't you, punk?" he asked as he held me by the hair, looked down into my eyes and started banging his monster prick against my face. "Yes, Master. I love it" I gasped. And I did. Yeah, I did, I really did. I was so envious of this giant dominant demigod, and held him in such high esteem and adoration, that it almost left me breathless just to look at him. He was nothing less than a complete phenomenon. A god among men. A true superior being. And what could be more exciting than watching this god laughing and taking enormous pleasure while damn near strangling you. I would never have thought that I could be a masochist, even for a single second, but being under Rad's malevolent, almost evil power and control was unquestionably the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. Yes, it was exciting, but it was the actual menace of his having total power and control over me and not knowing what he would do next that made it so electrifying and mind-blowing; and yes, completely terrifying. This was only the third time I'd been fucked by him, but I admit I was head over heels in love with him already. Somehow the respect and the love blended together and turned me into his most dedicated and most devoted submissive. But what's not to love about him? A man of true heroic proportions; massive, perfectly proportioned muscles everywhere with cuts that were truly magnificent. Any gay man's symbol of absolute perfection. And more dominant and demanding and tyrannical than any human being had any right to be. He was the most vain, self-centered, arrogant man on the planet, and he treated me and all his tricks less than the dirt under his feet, and we revered him for it. I would do anything for him, and the more abusive and demanding he was, the more I loved him for it. He deserved to be severe and commanding because of the honor he was bestowing on those he allowed to serve him. When you're picked for sex by a god, a supernatural being of absolute perfection, you'll accept any pain or abuse and take pleasure in it and feel honored for it. I knew I was being honored. I wanted to worship him; I envied him so much I wanted to be him. He slapped me. "Did you say thank you?" Oh shit, I can't believe I haven't learned yet. I know better than this. I should never let my mind wander, overcome by his dominating presence. "I'm sorry, Master. I'm sorry" I bleated. "Thank you, Master. Thank you." He slapped me again. "Thank me for what, you little shit?" he snapped. "Thank you for allowing me to take your cock, Master. Thank you for giving me that pleasure." How could I be so stupid as to forget? You not only thank Rad for anything he does to you, you thank him profusely. Leaning over me, he swept his arm across the desk, sending everything on it crashing to the floor. Then he grabbed me under the arms, pulled me up, and literally tossed me onto the desk. Even at 263 pounds, I was like a toy to him as he put me on my back. Grabbing me by the hair, he jerked me around and dragged my head off the edge of the desk. "Balls" is all he said as he pushed them into my face. "Thank you, Master" I said as I started kissing and slobbering over his balls. Hey, I'm a Master, and I've always had submissive slave boys serving me, so who better to know how a submissive is supposed to perform for his Dom. I was simply giving to Rad exactly what I expected my slaves to give to me, only more-so. Rad let me go for a minute or two and then turned around and pushed his ass in my face, jamming the back of my head against the desk. And, hey, I was thrilled. I said I'd do anything for him, absolutely anything to honor him and give him pleasure, but he'd never offered me his ass before. My face was jammed in tight, and I was going to have trouble breathing, but I started sucking up a storm on his butt, and as I got some saliva going, tried to push my tongue into his hole. Rad didn't say anything but he was pushing hard against my face, so I was trying to slobber in his crack and breath through my mouth at the same time. But my mind was almost blank because nothing mattered right now but giving him the greatest pleasure imaginable. Total focus was on his very hot muscled ass. He hadn't let me worship it before, so I was determined to show him that I was more than willing to do anything for him. I was so hot, my cock was throbbing, and I had an almost uncontrollable urge to grab it and jerk it. But I knew Rad would kill me for that, so I pushed my hands under my butt to try to keep from doing something I'd live to regret. Then he turned around and hit me in the chest. And then again, right in the sternum. "Fucking cocksucker" he growled. I was gasping for breath and could only wonder how he was going to abuse me next. But then I glanced up at his face, and guess what? He was smiling. Yes, he was. He had a great big grin showing, but when he saw that I was looking, he immediately changed back to a frown. "Fucking cocksucker" he growled once more and hit me in the chest again. But I'd seen it. I'd seen the smile. As rough and tough as he pretended to be, he actually had a soft spot and he'd just showed it to me, accidentally. Even though I was still catching my breath, and my chest hurt where he'd hit me, I was smiling inside because I'd caught him. I didn't dare smile at him and let him know I'd seen through his image of being a tough guy, but I knew this was all just a performance, and he had accidentally stepped out of character for a moment. All his meanness was just a show, and clearly, he was loving using me and he knew I was also loving it. He was doing all this for my pleasure as well as his own. Yeah, he really was, but he was trying to stay in character as an evil monster and not admit to me that he was a .... a softie. "Fucking cocksucker" he repeated for the third time. Pushing a thumb in my mouth to pry it open, he jammed his prick into me; all the way, deep into my throat, all ten inches of donkey dick until his balls banged against my nose. But I was ready. Of course, I'd taken a big breath, so I was prepared for whatever he was going to give me. I knew I was in for a rough face fuck, but I was excited and ready. His pleasure was my pleasure, and I was primed to give him my all. So, he fucked my face for ten or fifteen minutes, pulling out and slapping his dick against my face occasionally and then sometimes forcing the enormous monster back into my throat. I knew I wouldn't be talking much for a couple days. Then he dragged me over to the sofa, threw my legs up and rammed into me. I knew what was coming so I had prepared myself, but even so, he was so big and so violent that it hurt like hell at first penetration. But pain is pleasure, and I was loving every second of his brutality. And he had stamina too because he fucked me on and on and on. Occasionally he'd stop and ream me out, twisting his cock around in my ass and trying to cram even deeper into me. Then he'd laugh as he slapped me and go back to hard fucking, slamming it in with a fury. Finally, with a loud growl, not a yell or a scream, but an actual growl `Grrrrrrrr', he jerked his prick out of me, and yanked me onto the floor on my butt so I was leaning back against the front of the sofa. Pushing his prick into my face, now he did yell. "Fuuuccckkk" he howled as he gave his cock one jerk and started blasting away. After the first two shots went right over my head onto the sofa, he shoved my head back against the cushions, stuck his dick in and fired his next couple shots deep into my gullet. Then, pulling back out and in the frenzy of the ejaculation, his final four or five shots went into my face. "Shhhiiittt," he yelled as his final shot hit me on the nose. Finally, taking a couple deep breaths, he stuffed his prick back in my mouth and kind of fell on top of me, jamming my head back on the cushions with almost his entire weight on top of me. The last time he'd fucked me here in his office, I had shot my load without even touching myself, just from the violence of the fuck, but he'd cursed me and made me lick it up. Right now, my dick was throbbing, and I was more turned on than I'd ever been in my life, but I was able to hold on and not ejaculate. Yes, I have incredible control, but I'd fuck Angel the minute I got back to my cell. Jesus Christ, this guy was a rough fuck, an incredible fuck. Without a word, Rad pulled his prick out of my mouth, went over to his desk and started getting dressed. I didn't move. Sitting on the floor with my head back against the cushions I just waited. When you're in Rad's presence you don't do anything without his approval. One of many lessons I'd learned. After getting dressed, Rad sat in his chair behind the desk. "Clean up this mess" he said. Thinking it might be safer, I crawled over to him on hands and knees and started picking the shit up off the floor and handing it to him. Papers and pens and intercom and stuff, he rearranged everything as I handed them to him. "Get dressed" he said. I quickly got dressed and stood in front of the desk waiting while he was reading some document. Then he looked up at me. "Not bad" he said. As I looked at him, a saw a stoic, indifferent look on his face, almost a frown, but he was having difficulty holding it. Then it happened: he grinned. "Oop's, he said and actually chuckled. He'd lost his focus of being a mean bastard again. Looking away from me, he took a moment to try to get himself together and make the grin go away. When he raised his eye's back up, the frown was back. No way could he admit to me that he was anything but an evil son-of-a-bitch. "You're learning" he growled, holding the frown. "Next time don't grease up your ass so much. I want it tighter. Now, get out." "Yes, Master." As I opened the door to leave, I glanced back one last time and, yes, the grin was back. No heartless, cold-blooded guy after all. I was grinning too. ---------- Hey, this is Davon White, Superstud. Me, a total alpha, I had just been royally reamed out by the most dominant stud in the world and I was jubilant. And I was hot. And I was so fucking horny that I was about to explode. This was only the second time it'd happened, but I was an absolute tyrant when I got back from a session with Rad. My cock was like steel, I was horny beyond belief, and I wanted to tear me a new asshole from somebody, anybody. Of course, Angel was there in the cell when I got back, but Taru was there as well, and Bradford was standing outside the cell waiting for me. "You survived" Bradford said. I simply ignored him as I entered the cell. Taru was a good-looking Indian guy, who worked out with me occasionally, so he had a nice build. I knew he had a crush on me, so I allowed him to hang around my cell and drool over me. Hey, I don't mind being admired. I'd let him blow me once, but he really wasn't my type, because he was at least twenty-four, my own age, and he didn't have that young boyish look that teenagers have. But right now, I was completely out of control, so I simply walked up to him and slammed him in the stomach. I was angry-horny and was going to take it out on somebody and since I'd never had Taru's ass, he was going to be the one. Jerking my coveralls off, I grabbed my underwear and ripped them to shreds. Taru was lying on the floor on his butt with this shocked look on his face as I sat down on his chest. Grabbing his hair and jerking it, I started banging my cock against his face. "No, Davon. No, Davon" he said, and I heard Bradford saying something from outside the cell. But believe me, I was way beyond listening at this point and didn't even hear them. Flipping Taru over, I grabbed his coveralls at the seam of his ass, and with one enormous tug, ripped them wide open. Grabbing the jockey shorts I tore them from his body, actually lifting his 160 pounds up off the floor before they ripped apart. Then, without any preparation, I took aim and pushed, starting to force my enormous bludgeon into his tight little hole. He screamed. And then Angel was there. Getting on his knees in front of me, sitting right on top of Taru, he grabbed me by the ears and pushed his nose right up against mine. "Master, Master, Master" he shouted into my face, trying to get through to me. And then Bradford grabbed me from the back, dragging me off Taru. And I finally began to come to my senses. Angel, still holding my ears, started kissing me, first on the lips and then all over my face. "Master" he kept saying over and over. "Calm down, Master." With Bradford holding on to my shoulders, and Angel almost on my lap, they pushed me over backwards onto my back on the floor. Then Angel sat on my belly, reached behind him to find my cock, and slowly started sinking down on it, forcing it into his butt. I fucked Angel several times a day, so it was not a big deal for him to take it without any preparation because his ass was always prepared. "You're taking my ass, Master" Angel said. "Your hot little slave boy is here, Master." I was mostly calmed down now so Bradford backed off and Angel started bouncing his little buns up and down on my prick. You have to know that I was just seconds from an ejaculation, because I was still crazy hot from the royal fucking I'd just gotten from Rad, so I was absolutely frantic to cum. So, bam, in almost no time I yelled and started shooting into Angel's ass. I humped my ass up off the floor a couple times, pushing Angel into the air as I blasted my semen into him. And then I just collapsed, totally exhausted, lying there unmoving as Angel smiled down at me. He had a look of triumph on his face which kind of pissed me off. He thought he'd pulled one over on me by taking total control of the fuck. I'd try to remember to kick his ass later. "Well, I guess it was good" Bradford said, and he and Angel and Taru all started laughing. I would have laughed as well but I was just too wasted to even react. "Fuck you" I said softly. Bradford and Taru left, and Angel helped me into a bunk, climbed in with me and started planting soft kisses on my neck. I knew that in the next hour or so he would kiss and lick every inch of my body. ----------- So, how things have changed since I arrived here at `Maryland Correctional'. I'd been moved to the youth wing and Angel was my cell mate now. Angel, whom Rad had trained to be a perfect masochistic slave, had simply been turned over to me as part of the bargain. The bargain? Rad owns me. Actually, he was going to own me whether I liked it or not, so he was being very generous. This wing was supposed to be for faggy looking kids and for the young ones, up to twenty-two, but I was assigned there as well. So, guess what my records show? Check them out and you'll find out that I'm the most faggy and feminine looking prisoner in the place. Me, Davon White, completely girlish and in danger from other rough, tough, hairy, straight prisoners. Yep, that's what it says in my file. It turns out that Angel's antics, his being a tough uncontrollable stud, had been just an act to try to get the Warden to ease some of the restrictions on the youth wing. Bradford and Nick and occasionally Beth were the only guards in the wing, and they were all under my thumb, with the support of Rad. There were no four-man cells here but since I could pretty much do whatever I wanted; I could even keep a kid in my cell overnight. "If you don't get it clean this time, I'm going to make you go over it with your tongue's, god damn it" snapped Angel at the two kids he had cleaning the floor of our cell. I was on the phone with Jamal; no restrictions on my phone use anymore, and Angel was berating Kordel and Damarco. Although Angel had been Rad's slave and was now mine, the little shit was still a bit of a racist. He loved lording it over the other kids in the wing, particularly the black ones and Kordel and Damarco were both cute black guys. I can tell you that neither one could give a decent blowjob, but I'd been able to make my fat dick fit up their sweet little asses just fine. It was almost funny, Angel seeming to be a racist, because he was not only my perfectly obedient fuck boy, but he worshiped the ground I walked on. He was wild about getting fucked by me and constantly raved about big black dick. Yeah, black dick. How he arranged this in his head was beyond me. Go figure! Kordel and Damarco were the two boys Angel had picked to clean our cell this week and they were both on hands and knees with sponges cleaning the floor. Unfortunately, we had no container for the dirty water, so after a couple sweeps with the sponge, they had to go to the sink and wash it out. They'd been at it since before six and had cleaned the bunks, the table and chair, the toilet and sink, and were now doing the floor. Angel was a stickler for cleanliness and loved dominating the other kids. He could get away with almost anything because he belonged to me. And so did Bradford belong to me. "Good morning, Davon" he said as he walked up to the cell. "Everything okay today?" "Yeah, Bradford. Everything's fine" I said. "But Lars was being an ass yesterday and getting in the way in the weight room. Keep him out of there today." "Okay, Davon" he said. "Whatever you say." Yeah, Bradford belonged to me. I hadn't fucked him yet, but I had Rad's permission to do so, and I was going to do it pretty damn soon. I mean, I can't fuck him in front of the other prisoners, can I? And it wasn't easy finding the right time and place to do it. Bradford was a slave to his brother and might even be considered his lover because he was fucked by him regularly, probably every day. Their parents had named them Rad and Brad for god's sake, which pissed Rad off to no end, so when they got older, he made Brad change his name to Bradford. Yeah, he forced him to change his name, his own brother. Bradford was Rad's total slave, fuck boy, fawning toady, submissive lackey and you name it. He lived with his brother and for his brother, and was a complete masochist, totally dedicated and submissive to him. "Angel, get them out of here" I said as Bradford walked away. Angel shooed the two boys out and came over to me. "Yes, Master" he said. I was being lazy this morning and was still lying on my bunk, so now, without a word, I pushed the sheet and blanket down below my waist. "Thank you, Master" Angel said as he got down on his knees, leaned in, and sucked my half hard dick into his mouth. Rad had trained him well and Angel was unquestionable the best cocksucker in the county. Hell, any kid who could satisfy Rad's fat ten-inch monster should be able to take a baseball bat down his throat. "Mmmmm" he murmured in pleasure as he moved up and down on my prick, licking and sucking and generally making love to my big schlong. Shit, Angel was good. "May I touch your cock, Master?" he asked as he pulled up momentarily. "Suck my balls" I said, ignoring his request. I did allow him to use his hands sometimes, but a good cocksucker, a deep throat expert like Angel, could give great blowjobs without ever touching you with their hands. I mean, it's not always just the feeling of a submissive's mouth on your dick, but it's the seeing as well. There really ain't nothing hotter than looking down at a pretty-boy cocksucker, his face beet red, almost strangling himself on your cock trying to make it good for you and determined to give you, his Master, the greatest pleasure imaginable. Keeping his hands behind his back, Angel buried his nose in my balls and started licking and sucking. Shit, life was good. Back at `Baltimore City' I seemed to spend all my time training new kids to be my fuck boys because they would come and go, and somehow, I never quite had the time that I wanted to really enjoy their devotion. Here at `Maryland Correctional' it was more long term and I had Angel, perhaps the most dedicated slave I'd ever had, right up there equal to or even better than Corey. But I also had about thirty other young men pretty much available at my beck and call, some trained by Rad and some still virgin. "Okay" was all I said, and Angel immediately got on my dick, knowing that I was ready for him to get me hot and ready to blow. Starting to make humming sounds in the back of his throat, Angel clamped down tight on my dick and started bobbing up and down on it. Angel had amazing jaw muscles that allowed him to really squeeze my dick as he sucked which made him an extraordinary cocksucker. Angel was one of the few kids, in fact, that I let suck me all the way off sometimes instead of grabbing his head and fucking his face. "Take it deep and hold it" I said as I looked down at that beautiful face and watched as he dropped his jaw and forced my monster into his throat until his lips were finally jammed up tight against my crotch. Then he started swallowing against my dick, giving me the most incredibly feelings of delight. Jesus was he good. "That's it, baby. Oh, yeah, you're driving me crazy." I couldn't help but grab the back of his head with both hands and ram my crotch into his face, mashing his nose against my belly and cramming maybe another couple centimeters into his throat. Oh, shit, yes. I didn't want it to stop but I knew he couldn't go on much longer, so I let go. He pulled up, coughed once, took a deep breath, and went back down again. Angel was magnificent. But now it was fuck time. Getting up, I lifted him and tossed him on the bunk, his back against the wall and his feet out in front of him. Stepping up on the bunk, straddling his legs and standing in front of him, I pushed my crotch into his face. Jesus, Angel was beautiful. Absolutely perfect features, a dazzling white boy, and with my enormous jet-black dick pressed against his nose, it was totally erotic. Pulling my crotch back from his face, I slapped him and then put my hand in his face. "Thank you, Master" he said as he kissed my hand. Then he scrunched up his face; he knew what was coming because I slapped him again. "Thank you, Master" he said as he kissed my hand again. "Yes?" I questioned with a growl. "Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master, for hitting me." And this was no ritual; Angel meant it. Angel loved me hitting him and being very rough. He craved it. Pushing his head back against the wall, I stuck four fingers into his mouth as he looked up at me with worshipful eyes. "Ready?" I asked. He couldn't speak but the look of anticipation and lust in his face spoke for him. Pulling my fingers from his mouth, I replaced them with my enormous cock. My cock was not only long, but particularly big around; almost seven inches around, so seeing this colossal black pole entering this pretty white boy with his lips stretched around it was a sight to behold. I was a true voyeur. I mean, I love fucking, but I also love watching. There ain't nothing more captivating than watching my big black prick sliding in and out of a young white boy's pretty face. I started to fuck. I was so hot already that it wasn't going to take me long, but it didn't matter because Angel could take it. More than anything, Angel loved me fucking his face with my big dong because he could look up and watch the contortions of bliss on my face while I fucked. He knows I'm a god and he's grateful for being allowed to give me pleasure. It always left his lips swollen and his throat sore but the big grin of satisfaction on his face when I finished was amazing. I shoved my ten inches deep into him a couple times, holding it for a few seconds, just to get a good feel of his throat, and then started pumping. Slowly at first, pushing in with my cock barely entering his throat and then back out. Angel's jaw muscles were amazing and fucking his face felt almost as tight as fucking his ass. As I got a steady fucking motion going, Angel was doing wonderful things with his tongue on each outswing before I pushed it out of the way on my inswing. The only thing missing was somebody licking my ass, and I intended to take care of that real soon. I mean, there ain't nothing better than fucking one pretty white boy while another pretty white boy buries his face in your ass. I'd already picked out a couple likely kids, gorgeous blond boys, and intended to get them practicing in the next day or so. I've always loved having blond kids, real surfer types eating out my ass. As I watched my cock going in and out of Angel's hot mouth, I saw him look up at me with that dreamy worshipful look on his face. He also looked like he was pleading with me, and I knew what he wanted; he wanted permission to touch me. I nodded my head. Angel instantly reached around and grabbed my ass cheeks with both hands and let out an enormous groan. "Mmmmmm" he muttered, and I saw his body shutter. The little shit was cuming. I told you getting face fucked by me was his favorite but add in being allowed to grab my ass was just more that he could handle. His whole body was jerking as he shot his jism, but if anything, his grip on my cock got even tighter. Angel knew better than to allow anything to interfere with my fucking. But I was there anyway. Grabbing his hair with both hands and slamming him back against the wall, I bulldozed my dick deep into his throat and let go. My first shot went straight into his esophagus, but then I pulled back so the second and third went into his mouth. I go crazy when I'm ejaculating, so now, without even realizing it, I was yanking on his hair, damn near pulling it out by the roots. I heard Angel squeal, or as much as he could with my dick filling his mouth, but it didn't matter to me. I slammed back into him and my fourth shot went deep into his esophagus again. Angel was whimpering and maybe even screaming, but I was still out of control, as I pulled back and let my final shots shoot into his mouth. And then I began to calm down. I was soaking wet and panting as I looked down at Angel and saw such a look of total adoration on his face that is was almost funny. "Oh, baby, you are so fuckin fine" I said smiling down at him. Pulling my dick from his face, I stepped down off the bed. In an instant Angel was crouched down on the floor and kissing my feet. "Caaakkk" he tried to say something through his sore throat. Then he coughed and tried again. "Thank you, Master" he croaked. "Thank you, Master." I just stood there with a smile on my face enjoying watching him worshiping my feet. "Okay, baby. Okay" I said finally as I reached down, grabbed his hair, and gently pulled him up to his knees. Bending down I gave him a quick kiss to the lips. Then a longer kiss. Yeah, really. Maybe I was going to learn to appreciate kissing. "Thank you, Master" he said after the kiss as he looked up at me with those beautiful goo-goo eyes. "That was absolutely the best ever, Master. The very best." "At least since yesterday" I said with a laugh as I fluffed his hair. "We'll see about tomorrow." ------- I was Rad's boy. It's hard to believe that Davon White can be anybody's boy but that's the way it was. He tried to hide it, but I know he really liked me. He loved fucking musclemen, so I know he loved to fuck me. And being his boy came with a lot of benefits. He gave Angel to me, no strings attached, after he's spent a month or more training him. But, then again, Rad always had half a dozen kids in training so giving one up was probably not a big deal for him. But I know Angel had been special to him, because, as has been noted, Rad had even let Angel have Bradford one morning. And Rad gave Bradford to me as well, and that was really generous, because Bradford was not only his brother but his regular fuck boy. And, as I understand it, his chauffeur, housekeeper, cook and bottle washer, and bed warmer as well. So, giving me permission to use Bradford was amazing, and showed how much he respected me. He would never show it, of course, but it was obvious that he recognized that I am a super dominant stud master as well, not quite up to his standards, but second only to him. He made it clear from the very beginning that his favorite fuck was a really hot, really big, muscle guy with an incredible physique, and I'm sure I fit the bill better than anybody he'd ever had. Of course, I was submissive to Rad, but then again, everybody is submissive to Rad. So here I was looking through the bars at Bradford, an amazingly goodlooking black guy with a superbly muscled body. A total stud. Yes, a stud. He looked straight as an arrow, without the least bit of feminine features or actions, but when his brother spoke, his legs flew up in the air. He was completely and totally servile and obedient to his brother, not only sexually, but in every way possible. I mean, Rad had loaned him to Angel without a qualm. Rad ruled him with an iron fist and he accepted it and evidently loved him for it. I'd only seen Bradford naked one time, when I'd seen Angel plowing his ass. But what a body! Seeing him strapped to the wall with Angel plugging him was a sight for a top's wet dreams. Not that I had wet dreams, but if I did, well ..... As you know, I'm into hunky boys, teenagers, but I've had a few older muscular guys and I loved dominating them. I mean fucking a young, hunky hundred-and-twenty-pound kid is one thing, but taking a mature man, a really built two-hundred-pound plus muscle man and turning him into your pussyboy was incredible. I'd been busy getting Angel accommodated to my needs, getting the `Family' back on track with calls to Jamal, and just getting settled in and acclimated to the youth wing, but now I wanted Bradford. I wanted that muscled black ass. "So, what's that conference room used for, Bradford?" I asked. "The what? Ahhh... what's that?" he responded. "The one at the end of the solitary section. The one where Angel had you strapped to the wall and was fucking the hell out of you?" I just smiled at him after saying this. I couldn't see if he was blushing, but I think the heat coming from his face could have heated the room. "Davon, please, don't do that. Please" he said. I just laughed. "Okay, okay, don't have a hernia. But what's it used for?" "Dr. Taylor used it to council some of the kids, but since he resigned it's not used much at all. That's why Rad has been using it." "So, I can still tie you up against the wall, `Brad'?" "My name's Bradford" he growled at me. "If Rad hears you say that, he'll tear you in half." "Okay, okay, I got it." You can believe I don't fuck with Rad. "When's your break, Bradford?" "Well, I've got a half hour at 10:30 but..." "Meet me there at 10:30" I said. "But, Davon..." "I said, meet me there at 10:30, didn't I?" "Ahhh... yeah Davon. You did." "So?" "Ahhh... yeah, okay, Davon." "Good" I said and turned away from him. I'd already fucked Angel this morning but just thinking about Bradford gave me a twinge in my shorts. Shit, I hadn't had a real muscle man since Craig at `Baltimore City', and let me tell you, fucking Craig had been fabulous. With that hot ass of his I expected Bradford to be every bit as good. Angel had had two blond boys in our cell this morning to do the cleaning. The little shit loved cow-towing it over black kids, but today I told him to get the blond boys so I could check them out up close. Both boys were virgins as far as I know, virgin asses and virgin mouths anyway. I hadn't fucked them and I'm pretty sure Rad hadn't either. Adam and Ryder were both nineteen and very pretty boys. Adam was tall, almost six feet, and skinny, and would take a hell of a lot of building up before he'd have a decent body, but Ryder was a little guy, barely 5'6", stockier with a naturally well-formed body, much more my type. So, there was no question Ryder was going to be the one. Give him a couple months in the weight room under my tutelage and he'd bulk up fine just the way I like them, giving me something pretty to look at and some muscles to hold on to when I fuck him. Little guys were great fun to play with anyway. I mean, they're not called boytoys for nothing, so if they're small enough for me to toss around like a toy, all the better. I'll bet this kid doesn't weigh much over a hundred-twenty pounds and I planned to have a whole lot of fun with him. But yeah, Angel satisfied me; I fucked him several times a day, but Davon White has needs beyond only one kid. I'd already taken four kids into my bed for overnights, which pissed Angel off to no end, but they'd all been black kids. Gorgeous black kids who'd all been fucked by Rad. But right now, I wanted a blond, or maybe two blonds, to become regular fuck boys that belonged to me and not to Rad, and who would spend all their days and maybe their nights with me. This big prick of mine wouldn't have any trouble keeping a couple horny kids satisfied, that is if I cared at all whether they were satisfied. I mean, I don't recruit them to be happy, I recruit them to keep me happy, and you can be assured that I'd keep them busy doing that. So, anyway, I was going to get Ryder started on cock worship at my first opportunity. ----------- Life was really beginning to look up here at `Maryland Correctional'. I had fuck boy Angel, I was on my way to having Bradford, and I was going to get me another regular fuck boy soon. All of that and I still had my pick of the other thirty or so boys in the youth wing. Yeah, life was definitely looking up. Bradford was already there in the conference room when I arrived, just as I knew he would be. And Bradford is gorgeous. Yeah, gorgeous. Very handsome with a body to die for. I know he had to spend as much time in a weight room every week as I did. I'd only seen him naked once when Angel was plowing his ass, but even with clothes on, there was no way to cover that beautiful physique. Bradford's problem was being compared with his brother, his identical twin brother. In fact, I felt sorry for him, because Rad was in a whole different category of musculature. Rad was no less than sheer perfection; enormous and totally awesome, so it was completely unfair to compare Bradford with him. Bradford was, or was going to be, almost the most muscular guy I'd ever fucked. Almost, because competitive body builder Craig at `Baltimore City' had been somewhat bigger and more perfectly defined. And fucking Craig had been fabulous. Holding on to those big muscles while I fucked him and looking down and seeing that big body making love to my prick were some of the highlights of my time at `City'. "Jesus Christ, you look good" I said as I entered the room. "Strip for me, babe. Let me see that gorgeous body of yours." "Ahhh... Davon..." he started to say. "Rad said I could have you, Bradford" I said, "and as we know, Rad's word is law. So, don't fuck with me. Strip, like I told you." "Okay, Davon, okay" he said as he removed his jacket and started on his shirt and tie. God damn he looked good, and there was no way I couldn't see Rad in him. How the hell do you deal with identical twins when they are both gorgeous, but one is a tyrannical top and the other is a bottom boy. I was well aware that Rad has made me into his pussy, but Bradford looked just like him and the truth is, I wanted to worship that hunky body. What a conundrum. Bradford stripped down to his underwear and waited as I stripped down as well. I watched his eyes to see his reaction as I stripped, and he seemed to be impressed. It was going to be a bitch trying to impress this guy because he was fucked every day by his brother who had a body beyond belief and was half again my size; and who had a cock, while maybe not quite as big around as mine, that was probably longer. Bradford was stripped down but was still wearing his shorts, but I didn't give a shit what his dick looked like anyway. I'd get the shorts off when it came time to plug his ass. I handed him a black studded leather slave collar I'd brought with me, and he strapped it around his neck without saying a word. And, shit, there ain't nothing like seeing a guy wearing your slave collar. I stripped down to the buff, with my half hard prick sticking out. Now I've got a big dick and have seldom seen anybody bigger, but I ain't Rad. But, even so, you can bet Bradford is going to know he's been fucked when I'm done with him today. "Turn around, sweetheart" I said as I reached down and gripped my cock. "Let me see that hunky body. And flex those muscles for me." Bradford gave me a double bicep, and then a most muscular and slowly turned around, and damned if he didn't stop halfway and stick his ass out for me. "Oh shit, baby, you are beautiful" I said as I stepped up to him. Grabbing him by the neck, I pushed him down, forcing him to bend over. Grabbing his underwear by the waistband, I pulled them down off his ass and literally swooned. "Jesus, baby. You've got the most beautiful ass I've ever seen." And I wasn't lying; he had beautiful hard globes of muscle that only a body builder can have. I massaged those beautiful cheeks for a moment and slid my fingers up and down the crack a couple times, and then pulled him into my crotch. My cock was fully hard now and was standing straight up, and with its nearly seven-inch girth it fit nicely as I pushed it into his crack. "Fuck me, baby" I said. "Fuck me with that beautiful ass." As he started pushing his ass back against me, I reached over him and grabbed his slave collar and gave it a jerk. Jerking him back and forth by the collar and meeting his thrusts by humping my crotch into his beautiful ass, I let out a yell. "Oh yeah, baby." I didn't even have my dick in him yet, but I already knew this was going to be a fuck for the ages. Pulling him upright against my chest, I let go of the collar and reached around and grabbed a big bulging pectoral muscle with each hand and started fondling them. Jesus was he hot. Big slabs of rock-hard muscle, I squeezed them as I crushed our bodies together, and I gave him a couple kisses on the back of his neck. My prick was still in his ass crack, and I was still humping him, sliding it up and down, but I wasn't ready to fuck yet. It's not often I get a body builder under my hands like this, and I was going to take advantage of it. Stepping back, I grabbed his shoulders and turned him around to face me. Then leaning in, I started kissing and licking his big bulging right pectoral muscle. "Oh, baby, you are so beautiful" I mumbled as I got my mouth on his nipple and started sucking it. "Oh, shit, yeah." Okay, so? This is me worshiping his chest. Yeah, so I always have my fuck boys worship me and my muscles, not the other way around. But how often do I have the chance to have a real mature body builder available? I'd fucked Craig six or seven times, and I'd worshiped his muscles most every time, and it had been heavenly. I didn't know if I'd get another chance at Bradford, so I was definitely going to take advantage of his hot body today. "Davon, Davon, Davon" Bradford murmured in my ear, obviously enjoying the hell out of my worship. You can bet he never got this from Rad. "Oh shit, baby, I love these hot muscles" I swooned as I moved over to his right pec, licking it and sucking on it and enjoying the feeling of that hard muscle under my lips and tongue. "Oh, shit yeah" I moaned. "Show me those arms, baby" I groaned in ecstasy. "Flex those big muscles for me." Bradford flexed his enormous right arm, bringing up an eighteen-or-nineteen-inch bicep. "Oh, shit" I groaned again as I leaned in and started giving it soft kisses. "Oh, Davon" Bradford moaned. "Ohhh... yes, yes." Oh yeah, he liked my worship, he was loving it. But who wouldn't? A hot muscle stud like me, a total dominant, pleasuring his hot body with my mouth. Bradford never had it so good. But it didn't matter to me one way or another because I was getting a whole lot of pleasure and incredibly turned-on by worshiping these muscles. But I also knew I was going to be fucking this hot stud in the next couple minutes too. My cock was like a steel rod and was even hurting as I stepped back from him. I knew I was flushed and had my saliva all over my face, but I was almost delirious with pleasure. "Work my pec, baby" I said as I pulled his face into my chest. And you can bet Bradford was into muscle worship as well. All bodybuilders were into admiring another guy's bodies. Bradford was good, worshiping just the way I like it. Starting with soft kisses, and then changing to licking, and finally into sucking. He was really slobbering on it as he sucked on every inch of my chest. I threw my head back in ecstasy as I just let him go at it for a few minutes. Then I reached down and gave him a slap on the ass with my right hand, then raised my left and flexed it. Bradford looked up and saw my flexed arm and literally dove in to start worshiping my bicep. Reaching up and grabbing my arm with both hands he pushed his face in, rubbed his nose against it, and started kissing and sucking on it. My head still thrown back, I grinned in pleasure, while this big hunk worshiped my hot body. Without me saying anything, he bent down and jammed his face into my armpit and started slurping up the sweat he found there. He was now making moaning sounds from the back of his throat; he was enjoying this as much if not more than I was. After a couple minutes he reached over and pushed up my right arm, and I flexed it for him. Instead of going for the muscle this time, he pressed his face into my armpit, glorying in the worship of my pit. Then, finally, I pushed his head back, so we were nose to nose, and I was looking into his eyes. "How would you like some ass, baby?" I asked, grinning at him. "Hot black muscleboy ass." "Oh, yeah, Davon. Yeah" he said as he got this shocked look on his face. "Yeah, Davon" he repeated. Did I tell you Bradford was a masochist? With a brother like Rad, an abusive Master who fucks him every day, you know damn well Bradford must be a perfectly trained masochist. "Get to it" I said, still grinning at him. Bradford immediately dropped to his knees, crawled behind me, and pushed his face into my ass. Nirvana! Ain't nothing better than getting your ass licked, and having a beautiful muscle stud doing it is even hotter. You know anybody with a tyrannical brother like Rad has got to be no less than brilliant at eating ass. And, oh yeah, Bradford was brilliant. Pulling my hot globes apart with his hands, he jammed his nose in and started spitting and slobbering and sucking on my hole. Then giving my cheeks a few quick kisses, he dove back into my crack and back to sucking. No soft easy lick here, but an energetic ramming of his tongue and nose into my crack. It felt like he was trying to fuck me with his nose, he was ramming it in so hard. Then I felt his tongue. The most exquisite feeling imaginable; his tongue forcing its way into my hole. He was prying my cheeks apart and pushing his face in, but he must have one hell of a tongue, because I could feel it entering my hole. "Oh shit, Bradford. You're killing me" I groaned in total pleasure. Then he really did start fucking me. Making his tongue into a ridged bar, he started banging his face in and out of my ass, forcing his tongue in with each thrust. You ever been tongue fucked? So have I, but never like this. Bradford was brilliant. But he was also getting me too hot. "Jesus, Bradford" I said as I pulled away from him. He followed me with his face in my ass, so I actually had to reach back and push him away. "I gotta fuck you, baby." "Against the wall, Davon. Please, against the wall" he pleaded, looking up at me. I glanced over where I'd seen Angel fucking him, and there were the straps and lined cuffs for wrists and ankles. "Well, move it then" I growled. "I'm hot to trot." Bradford got up and scurried over to the wall, reached up and fastened the cuff around his right wrist, I walked over, fastened the other wrist stretching his arms wide facing the wall, and then attached the ones to his ankles. Then I stepped back and simply admired him. Jesus what a man. Big muscle hunk with an ass that was totally out of this world. He still had his underwear on, and they'd now slipped back up over his ass. I reached out and grabbed them and ripped them to pieces. The waist band was still there with tatters of underwear attached, but his ass was completely open for my inspection. I couldn't resist grabbing those beautiful globes, squeezing them and pinching them. Bradford is all muscle, and since the sphincter is a muscle, I knew it was going to be a bitch forcing my prick it there. But I also knew I was going to have one hell of a good time doing it. Giving his cheeks a few soft slaps, I pulled them apart and lined up my big hard dong against his little hole. Putting my hands-on Bradford's hips, I pushed, and then pushed harder, and then harder yet. Very slowly, that little pucker began to pry open for me, and just like that, the head of my prick popped inside him. "Mmmmm" Bradford moaned. No scream; just a soft moan. Hell, he had to be accustomed to this since he got it every day from his brother. I pushed again and got three or four inches into him. Oh yeah, he was tight. You might think with Rad's dick up there all the time that he'd be loose, but in fact he's a muscle man. Muscles are elastic. They might stretch but they come right back where they started. He was tighter than hell. "Ohhh..." he moaned again. "So good, Davon. Please. Please fuck me." "You got it, baby" I said with a grin, and I pushed hard, forcing all ten inches into his tight muscle ass. "Oh yeah, Davon. Oh yeah" he murmured. Shit, this muscle man really loved getting fucked. So, I fucked. Pulling back and ramming into him repeatedly. He kept moaning softly and grunting each time I slammed into him. With Rad fucking him in his office all the time, he had evidently learned to take it quietly. Not so, me. I was yelling `shit' with each thrust. "Shit, shit, shit." I went on and on. I had been close to coming, back when Bradford had his tongue up my ass, so it was not taking much to get me back on track again. I was super-hot. Grabbing onto his hips, I really started slamming it to him. His prick was jammed against the wall and evidently getting stimulation every time I slammed into him, because suddenly Bradford started breathing hard and gasping: "uh, uh, uh, uh". He was coming. Now that's what I call a real masochist; coming without even touching himself while being dominated and ram fucked. But I didn't hesitate. I didn't give a shit if he came. All I was interested in right now was my own gratification, and I was getting really hot and could feel the pressure building up in my balls. Bradford was still firing as I reached my peak. Reaching up, I grabbed his shoulders and slammed into him as hard as I could one final time. "Shhhiiittt" I screamed as I started blasting into his ass. "Shit, shit, shit" I went on, shooting burst after burst of my semen into his hot butt. ----------- "You're a hot stud, Davon" Bradford said to me with a smile while we were getting dressed. "If you get Rad's permission, you can fuck me any time." "Rad's permission?" I queried. "You know I belong to him, Davon" he said matter-of-factly. "That's just the way it is, and I'm happy with it." "Cool, I'll talk to him" I said. But of course, I wouldn't. Rad was volatile and there's no way of knowing how he would react if I asked to fuck his favorite bottom boy again. No way would I take that chance. "You going to keep my slave collar on, Bradford, or are you going to take it off?" I said with a grin. "Oh, yeah, I forgot" he said with a laugh. "But it was feeling awfully comfortable." Does this story make you hot? Tell me about it. I'd like to hear your story. gladiatorkid@hotmail.com ddcolwell@live.com Remember that Nifty.org is dependent on donations. Be generous.

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Date: Fri, 5 Jul 2024 12:19:01 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter 8 This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black muscleman with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with consensual and nonconsensual sex. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Eight "You ain't heard of the `Black Guerrilla Family' you stupid fuck?" I had him on his knees, had an arm behind his back which I was yanking on, and his face jammed into the cold-water faucet in the shower. He was screaming as I was damn near breaking his arm and kept slamming his face into the shower handle. I thought maybe I'd broke his nose and I may have been putting his eye out, but I didn't give a fuck. "I'm the `Black Guerrilla Family'" I shouted in his ear. "And you're nothing but a piece of shit." He screamed again as I really yanked his arm up and slammed his face into the shower handle again. "You big fuck, you gonna belong to me from now on" I growled. "Say it, you piece of shit. Say I own you." I'd passed the word around that I thought Leeshawn was a big pussy, so I knew he'd come after me. A guy in his situation, being absolutely top dog, couldn't afford to let anybody get away with bad-mouthing him. He came into the shower with a shiv, but how the hell do you hide anything in the shower? I saw he was hiding something in his hand from the second he entered and since I was expecting something from him anyway, I immediately jumped him, made him drop it, and then started beating the shit out of him. "Tell me I own you, you big shit" I shouted at him. "You dead, man. You dead" he growled back. Leeshawn was big, enormous actually, and he was really strong. I'm no weakling, but I had his arm behind his back trying my damndest to break it, and it wouldn't break. "I own you, you stupid fuck" I said as I slammed his face against the handle again and yanked on his arm as hard as I could. Then I heard something pop, maybe his shoulder came out of its' socket, and wow, did that ever get a howl out of him. "Yeeeeooooh" he screamed as he went limp and stopped fighting me. I slammed his face into the faucet once more and heard a crunch so now I knew I'd broke his nose. "Tell me the `Family' owns you" I said still holding his arm. "The Family, the Family," he moaned. "You're my pussy" I said. He didn't answer but I really didn't expect him to, so I let go of his arm. Grabbing a handful of hair, I pulled him back from the wall letting him fall to the floor of the shower. His nose was twisted and bleeding profusely and he was bleeding from half a dozen cuts on his face, and his right eye was swollen shut. "You stupid asshole" I said. "You don't fuck with the Black Guerrilla Family and you don't fuck with Davon White, ever." All he had going for him was being big, really big, 350 pounds big, but underneath the flab was a lot of muscle. Leeshawn was a street fighter, but he wasn't a sophisticated fighter like I was and was used to simply overpowering guys with his enormous strength. I just stayed out of his reach and didn't let him get ahold of me. Wasn't ten minutes I had him down and banging his face against the wall. So, that's me, Davon White, putting in my claim to begin to try to take control of this place. Yeah, here I am in prison again and God, I hate this place. It took me almost two years to get the `Baltimore City Detention Center' straightened out and under my control, and now, here I am at the `Maryland Correctional Institution' in Hagerstown and I have to start all over again. My cellmate is a skinny 61-year-old black guy named Harry, a lifer. He's a nice guy, very quiet and respectful, but I can't turn an old man into my fuck boy. He's sixty-one years old for god's sake. But I don't know the guards yet and have no power here at all. And as a newbie, I have to be on my best behavior because they'll be watching, and if there is anything I want to avoid, its solitary confinement. So, how did this happen? How the hell did I get here? It's quite a story. First of all, I wasn't raping that kid. Okay, yeah, I had my dick up his ass and he was screaming but it was consensual. Kind of consensual anyway. I mean, I know what rape is, because I've been involved in plenty of rapes, but when a kid asks for it, it ain't rape. Admittedly he had some encouragement from Raylon, but he asked for it, and he asked for it nicely. The facts were that Raylon gave the kid credit on his drugs and he was behind on that payment and needed to be reminded that it was due. Raylon brought him into our `dungeon' and worked him over a little and convinced him that it was in his best interest to service my prick. I'm not sure if consensual is the correct word, but he felt that maybe servicing me was better than any other options Raylon might have had in mind. And besides, just like everybody who gets drugs from us, he knew from the beginning that the interest rate on a loan from us included substantial late penalties. Okay, okay, so I know that Raylon recognized that this kid was just my perfect type, and maybe he was overly generous with `The Tab', and perhaps he knew the kid was likely to fall behind on payments, but the fact is, the kid owed us money, so we were justified in demanding payment. Raylon is a good guy and is always looking out for my best interests, and this kid was a young white boy, very attractive with a fairly nice build, damn near perfect. Oh yeah, Raylon knew that this was the kind of boy that would get my juices flowing and make my dick hard. So, this was the way it went. I'd had my workout and shower, and Adam was giving me a massage, when Terrell came in and said Raylon had the boy ready. Adam grabbed my terry cloth wrap, put it on me and got on his knees and kissed my feet. Looking up he said: `thank you. Master, for letting me serve you'. I tousled his hair and let him kiss my hand as I smiled down at him. I know this sounds silly, but this is a ritual we have, and he loves treating me this way. And hell, I like it too. Adam was a cute seventeen-year-old white boy who was about as perfect a slave as a guy could get. He was one of the few slaves that I didn't rule through fear, because he absolutely adored me. He'd do anything for me. Plus, he gave great massages, craved being dominated and was having a love affair with my dick. So, when I got into the dungeon, I saw that Raylon had the kid strung up from leather bands around his wrists, so he had to stand up on his toes to relieve the pressure on his shoulders. He was naked except for the wrist bands and a slave collar. He had tit clamps attached to his little nubbins and there was some kind of clamp attached to his genitals. "He's ready for you, Boss" Raylon said with a grin as he gave the boy a gentle slap on his bare butt. "Cute little bugger if I do say so myself. And he's hot for your prick. Ain't you white boy?" "Yes, sir, Mr. Clark" the boy mumbled through the pain. "I'm hot for his prick." Groaning a little and gasping for breath he looked at me. "Good boy" Raylon grinned and gave the boy another easy slap to the butt and removed the clamp from his balls, getting a groan from him. "Good boy" he repeated. "Jesus Christ, Raylon" I said with a laugh, really impressed with the kid's amenable demure, "is he ever ready. Wow." "Ain't nothing to it, Boss" Raylon laughed. "Gentle persuasion I call it. And look, hardly a mark on him. Nothing much that shows anyway." "Okay, cut him down" I said. "Let's see what we've got." Raylon put a stool under the kid's feet and unfastened the chains holding his arms. Then, both at the same time, he jerked off the tit clamps, getting a real howl out of the lad. A howl from him but a grin from me because I know a little pain early on will get a kid in the right frame of mind for a good hot fucking. "Hands behind your back" Raylon growled as he grabbed the kid by the neck and pushed him to his knees. I stepped forward and pushed my crotch into his face. And what a pretty face it was: light brown hair with a tinge of red and scattered freckles on his face. I guess he was about twenty with a nice slim body; not built but obviously in good condition. Not as muscular as my usual type, but hell, this was business as well as pleasure, because this was just the kid's invoice for his drug purchases. I like muscular boys, like my three house boys but there was always something special about taking a virgin ass. This magnificent fuck muscle of mine had had many a virgin ass, who knows how many, but I was always ready for one more as long as there was a pretty face attached to it. "Take this wrap off of me" I ordered him. He took hold of the Velcro connection and pulled it apart allowing the wrap to fall to the floor. Putting my hand behind his head and pulling him in, I rubbed my still soft prick back and forth against his face a few times. Shit, I loved the way my black dick looked when I banged it against a white boy's face. Oh yeah, that's where it belonged, in a white boy's face or in a white boy's mouth, or maybe up his ass. It turned me on so much that I almost exclusively fucked white boys these days. Call me a racist if you want and so what if I am? But the fact is, most white boys are racist anyway, so it was really special to take a cute white boy and introduce him to my big black donkey dick. Let me tell you, the contrast between my `nigger' dick banging against a white boy's face, black on white, is phenomenal. And sticking it between those pretty pink lips is pretty special too. The kid was weeping softly, evidently from the lingering pain in his tits, but he was keeping his hands behind him and offering no resistance. As always, Raylon knew exactly what it took to get them docile and well-behaved. I put my hand under his chin forcing him to look up at me. "So, you want my dick, do you white boy?" I asked with a big grin. "Big black nigger dick? You want it? Huh?" "Yes, sir, Mr. White, sir" he said, his voice quivering. "Well, tell me. What do you want to do with this dick? Huh?" He simply looked dumbfounded at first, not understanding what I wanted. "Ahhh... ahhh" he mumbled. "What do you want to do with it?" I asked again as I heard Raylon chuckling. "You want to worship this dick, boy? This dick going to be your god? Tell me." "Ahhh... yes, sir, Mr. White, sir" he said, his voice still quivering. "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir, what?" "Yes, sir, ahhh... I want to worship it, sir. I want to worship your dick, sir." Raylon and I were both laughing now. This kid was so fuckin cute, his voice shaking and tears streaming down his face. "You're going to treat it like your god, aren't you? You're going to worship your god?" "Yes, sir, Mr. White, sir" he said, finally understanding what I wanted from him. "Your cock is my God, sir, and I want to worship it, sir." "Way to go cutie" I laughed giving his cheek a few friendly slaps. "You've definitely got the right attitude. Now, you ever kissed a dick before, boy". "No, sir, Mr. White, sir" he mumbled. "Well, you're got a beauty to start on. Great big beautiful black dick. Kiss it. Kiss it all over." With a quick glance at Raylon, the kid leaned in and started giving my prick soft kisses. I was only now beginning to get hard, as my dick began to wake up from his administrations. "Good boy" I said as I tussled his hair. "Good boy." I just let him go at it for a couple minutes and then pushed his head back. "Just look at it, boy. Just admire it" I said. It was getting stiff now, so I grabbed it and wiggled it in front of his face. "Tell me it's beautiful, babe." "It's beautiful, Mr. White, sir." "You can do better than that" I purred. "Describe it and say it with conviction." "It's... it's... beautiful... It's ahhh... gorgeous, Mr. White, sir." "And you want to worship it don't you?" "Yes, sir, Mr. White, sir. I want to worship it." Holding my prick up, I pulled his face into my crotch. "Worship my balls first, babe. Pay homage to your god's balls." Without any hesitation he started licking my balls. "Lots of saliva, babe. Get `em wet and suck on `em." As he continued sucking, I pulled him in tight and just humped my ten-inches into his face, smearing my pre-cum on him. Every time I used one of Raylon's boytoys I was impressed. I mean, this kid was amazing. Totally docile. Totally obedient. Absolutely dedicated to executing my every whim on command. Raylon's techniques are almost unbelievable. How he can turn a kid into a sniveling, spineless, utterly submissive little cocksucker in just a couple hours was astonishing. "Great job, Raylon. Great job" I said looking over at him. Raylon was wearing some kind of skin-tight nylon thing around his waist which barely covered his big schlong. The crotch was soaking wet, presumably from the kid's earlier ministrations while being trained, but the big bulge showed Raylon was fully hard. That always surprised me, because even though Raylon was as straight as they come, he would invariably get hard while watching me dominate and fuck a kid. I suppose that was because Raylon was into violence and his female partners seldom came away from his bed without bruises to show for it. He got sexually excited watching me dominate a kid, but he also got excited while whipping a kid's ass getting him ready for me. But, I mean, who wouldn't get excited about taking a kid with attitude and turning him into a whimpering little pussy? "Thanks, Boss" he said giving me a smile and reaching down and groping himself. "I knew you'd like this one. He almost turns me on." Stepping over to us, Raylon reached down and gently removed a large dildo from the kid's ass. It wasn't as big as my enormous schlong, but it was pretty good size. "Oh shit, Raylon" I laughed. "You have got him ready." "Yup. All ready" he laughed. "Just ram it in." I grabbed the kid by the hair and pulled him over to a leather bench, forcing him to crawl. Pulling him up on the bench on his belly with his ass hanging over the end, I got behind him and spread his legs. "He's prepped, Boss" Raylon said. "Just go for it." Lining up my big bludgeon with his little hole, I pushed, hard, ramming all ten inches into him in one fell swoop. The kid let out one hell of a scream that could have waken the dead, but my cock was sending incredible spasms of rapturous delight shooting into my brain. That's when the cops burst in. "Oh shit" Raylon and I both said at the same time. The good news about our dungeon is that it is soundproof so you don't worry about any noise the schmuck your fucking is making, but the bad news is that we didn't hear the cops coming, so they got quite a spectacle as they stormed in with the kid screaming like a banshee and me ramming my dick up his ass. Those assholes not only cuffed me and took me to the wagon totally naked with my prick still dripping, but I was at the jail for a couple hours before they finally got me something to wear. But shit, I wasn't surprised. Stunningly handsome stud like me with a body of a superman and a demon sized dick, you can bet they were mostly checking me out. Hell, most of those cops couldn't keep their eyes off me, and had the circumstances been different, I could have had half a dozen of them chowing down on my dick in no time. I gave each of them a wink and a smile when they stared, and I had to chuckle because some of them turned red with embarrassment and had to turn away and rearrange their growing hard-on's. Hey, I got nothing against fucking cops, but I just like teenagers better. Neither Raylon nor I had had a chance to emphasize to the kid the penalty for squealing, so he was screaming `rape' from the moment the cops burst in. Also, Raylon had made the mistake of snatching the kid from his own front lawn, and his mother had called the police. But strangely enough, that wasn't the reason for the raid. It actually was a drug bust. The god damn cop who was supposed to notify us of the raid was on vacation, so Jamal didn't even know the bust was coming. Luckily, Jamal is super careful, so what little `shit' we had on the premises was flushed away in seconds. So, their drug bust was a flop, but they got Raylon for kidnapping and me for rape. --------------- It was driving me crazy that I didn't have a phone here in prison. I was so used to being up to date on everything by talking to Jamal several times a day. I definitely needed to do something about that. Jamal used his connections to find out where they were sending me and passed on the word that two members of the `Family' were already there, so I got with them right away. "So, how come none of you have a phone?" I asked Omar and Jasen when we got together. As with most members of the `Family' they were both hunks; dedicated body builders. "Shit, Davon, that..." Omar started to say. "Boss" I said, interrupting him. "Even in here, I'm still Boss of this `Family'. Don't you forget it." "Okay, Boss, sorry," he replied. "But I don't know anybody has a phone. Even Leeshawn, the guy who's pretty much in charge around here, doesn't have one. "He's in charge?" I asked. "Well, yeah. He's big and tough and he seems to own the guards. I mean, nobody dares mess with him, and he's got a couple goons to support him as well, so he seems to be able to do whatever the hell he wants. I mean, with Jasen he .... " "Shut up, Omar" Jasen said. "What?" I asked. "He fuck you, Jasen?" Jaden didn't say anything as I looked at him questioningly. "Well, cough it up. What'd he do to you? Speak up, damn it." "Well... I... he..." Jasen mumbled. "Omar, tell me" I said. "Leeshawn roughed him up and fucked his boytoy and made him watch while he did it" Omar said. "He's done it more than once." "Oh, fuck" I said, understanding now why Jasen was so embarrassed. "So, he didn't want your sorry ass, but he wanted to humiliate you by fucking your boy." "Yeah, that's about it" Jasen answered. "He's a huge guy, probably weighs over 350 pounds but he likes skinny feminine looking guys, and my Otto is a bit on the fem side. Besides, Otto is white and Leeshawn prefers white boys when he can get them. He's got his own fuck boy, but he fucks just about anybody he wants with impunity." "Actually, he does it just to prove his power more than anything else and let everybody know he's in charge" Omar said. "He's a guy you want to stay away from." "I don't know about that" I said. "Sounds to me like a guy I want to get close to." So, that was my introduction to Leeshawn, and it was only two weeks later that I sent him to the hospital. I got away with it for two reasons: one, because he was the aggressor and had the shiv and planned to murder me, and two because they wanted a replacement `sugar daddy' for Leeshawn. I mean, they're not totally stupid. The word was already around that I was head of the `Black Guerrilla Family' and had the connections and the bucks. Didn't take but four days after I whipped Leeshawn that the first guard came to me being subtle but hinting that he was for sale at the right price. He said he heard on the grapevine that I was generous, and he said he was willing to be helpful. His name was Fred, and he was good looking, kinda husky, probably late twenty's, early thirty's and from our first meeting I knew I could get him on my dick if I was willing to really put on the charm. I didn't want to fuck a thirty-year-old, but I thought I'd keep that in mind as a backup depending on how things went. Three more guards, all female, came by over the next few days, all of them wanting benefits but also showing interest in my prick. Hell, I'm gorgeous in every way; face and body and prick, so how could they resist? I found out really quick that my looks and charm and ten inches were going to be just as popular here as they had been in `Baltimore City'. I mean, barely fifteen minutes after I met Latisha, one of the day guards, she was down on her knees worshiping my dick while her cohort, Jacy, kept watch outside the cell. I had to literally drag her off in order to fuck her. Turns out Leeshawn didn't have near the prick I've got, so Latisha was getting satisfaction like never before. ------------------ Now this was supposed to be one of those progressive prisons, where instead of just punishing the prisoners, they tried to rehabilitate them. We'd been naughty and they were going to try to keep us from being naughty again. So, I was assigned to a Clinical Psychologist. Not a psychiatrist but a psychologist. Not sure what the difference is but I think the psychologist is supposed to be almost as good as the real thing, but probably cheaper, so why waste the big bucks on a prisoner when you can get by on the cheap. So, meet Dr. Taylor. Dr. Ezekiel Taylor for god's sake. A doctor with some fancy degree but he epitomized his name because he was a total nerd. I mean, you gotta know, anybody named Ezekiel has got to be a nerd. Ezekiel had this stack of papers in front of him every time I came in, presumably my file, and he was constantly writing something. He had kind of a thin face with indrawn cheeks but wasn't all that bad looking. He was about 5'8" and maybe 170 pounds and was probably in his mid-thirties. He had these rimless glasses and when he looked at me, which wasn't very often, he'd look over the top of them. And that's what struck me from the first few minutes of our first meeting; he wouldn't look at me. Of course, I can be intimidating. With my 19-inch arms and 58 inch chest, my muscles have got muscles and the skin tight t-shirts I wear just emphasis them. Yeah, I know, I know, we have to wear these stupid prison coveralls, but nobody said I had to have them zipped up all the way. I keep them unzipped down below my navel, so my big meaty pectorals show in all their glory. And since I made a point of getting coveralls that were a couple sizes too small, my enormous shoulders and arms looked like they were about to split the seams. So, I'm intimidated. And he's a nerd. But he's also supposed to be a professional: a psychologist by training, so my good looks and my amazing physique should not have affected him. But, since he was such a little guy, he looked like a damn midget sitting across the table from me, Hell, most anybody'd look small next to me, Davon White, at 6'3" 263 pounds. So, from the first meeting we had together I could see that he was apprehensive about being in the room with me. "Mr. White, it's this aggression that we have to work on. All the records show you as being very aggressive and controlling. We need to discuss this and see if we can find out what caused it and what we might do about it. What do you think about this?" This was my third session with Dr. Taylor, Ezekiel that is, and I could already read him like a book. During the first two sessions I just sat there with a smirk on my face and occasionally giving him a `yes' or a `no'. He'd sat there writing furiously not daring to look up at me. The few times he did look, I'd smile, and he'd quickly look back down. "These sessions can be important to you, Mr. White. They will count towards your good behavior if you participate," he said. "It's all because of sex, Dr. Taylor" I said softly. "I beg your pardon?" he said. "Your aggression came from sex?" "Yeah, it was sex" I answered. "I mean, I'm good looking and I've got a big dick and as you can see, I'm what they call a real beefcake. I mean, I'm a hunk, just look at this." I stood up and gave him a double bicep pose, flexing my incredible arms, and we actually heard the seams popping and saw it split open at the left bicep which may have been a smidgen bigger than my right one. "Shit, I did it again" I said with a grin. "You gotta look, Dr. Taylor if you want to understand" I said as I held the pose waiting for him to look up. "That's enough, Mr. White" he said as he glanced up at me and then quickly back down at his papers. "From the time I was a kid I was one hunky number" I said as I sat down "and people wanted to get it on with me. I mean, you can see why just by looking at me, but they also wanted me to dominate them. A good-looking husky stud like me, they just expected me to be rough. So I was." This was the first time I'd answered any of his questions in anything other than monosyllables, so I definitely had his interest. (scribble, scribble, scribble went his pen). "Well, I'm glad you've decided to open up to me" he said, glancing at me over the top of his nerdy glasses, and quickly back down again. "Maybe we're getting somewhere" he said. "They wanted you to dominate them?" "Yeah, they all did" I answered. "I mean, for example there was this girl I met at McDonalds, Tess or Tits or Twat or maybe Teresa, or something like that. She worked there so I waited for her to get off work and let her take me home. She couldn't keep her hands off me and all she could talk about was how big my muscles were and what a marvelous prick I had and how she bet I was really rough in bed. So, I was fucking the hell out of her in her bedroom and yes, I was being rough, but she was begging me to fuck her harder when her mother walked in. I guess she came home early or something. Anyway, her mother let out a scream and looked really shocked. "Trish" she screamed and just stood there looking. I'd been surprised and had pulled my dick out, and she couldn't seem to take her eyes off it. But I can tell you, I'm good at pickin up on people and I saw it in her face. She was envious. Hell yes, she was. She saw my big dick and wanted some of it for herself. Weren't no big surprise to me because I got that kind of reaction from bitches all the time. "Anyway, she was finally able to pull her eyes away from my dick and left, slamming the door behind her. The girl tried to push me off, but I wasn't about to interrupt a hot fuck, so I rammed back in and kept at it until I blew my wad. Now, I told you what I saw. Weren't no doubt in my mind that the lady wanted me. So, when her daughter went to the bathroom, I walked out into the kitchen completely naked with my dick still dripping and walked up behind the mother and gave her a healthy swat on the ass. And you can guess what happened: she yelped but then turned around with a smile on her face and tried to kiss me. I wasn't much into kissing at the time, so I gave her another swat on the other cheek, put her on her knees and let her suck me for a while. And I can tell you that's what she wanted; the bitch was really hot for my big black dick." "Ahhh... Mr. White" he said. "That's..." "Wait, let me finish" I said interrupting him. "I didn't plan to fuck the old lady because she had to be over thirty, too old for a fourteen-year-old kid, so I turned around, put a hand behind her head and pulled her into my ass. She didn't seem to mind at all because she was ramming her fingers up her cunt like mad. So, I just held her there and let her eat my ass while I jerked off all over her kitchen floor." "Mr. White" he said. "It's not necessary to give me the explicit details of your exploits. Generalities will be sufficient." "I just want you to understand, Dr. Taylor" I said innocently. "I've fucked hundreds of bitches since then, but that time, when I wasn't even fifteen yet, is an example of what I had to go through just after I reached puberty. But I ain't finished yet. A couple days after I fucked her, the girl's big brother came looking for me, a college football player, probably five years older than me. He came after me, you understand, so it was not my aggression that was at fault. He was too stupid to notice that even at fourteen, I was as big as him, so after I kicked the shit out of him, I fucked him. I really wasn't into fucking guys at that time, but I found out that working him over and dominating him before taking his ass was very exciting." "Alright, Mr. White. That's enough" he said. "You have to know it's a simplification to blame your aggression onto the people you aggressed upon." "Well, I'm just telling you the way it was" I answered, still pretending innocence. "I became pretty much of a regular at their house after that. As I recall, I never did fuck the old lady, although I let her suck me off a couple times. But the girl and the boy were terrific fucks, the girl because she loved a rough fuck and the boy because I found out how much fun it was to force him to do all kinds of shit against his will. I got more dick action in that house over the next couple months that you can possibly imagine. And let me tell you, Dr. Taylor, I was as aggressive and demanding and raunchy as I wanted to be, and except for the boy, they loved it. I mean, I didn't even know what the word `orgy' meant until I started fucking them. I was big kid for my age, but I was not even fifteen at the time, but I learned how to be quite a hellion, one very lecherous dominate stud." "Alright, that's enough" he said firmly. "I think we'd better end this session for today. I'll see you again next Tuesday." "Okay, Dr. Taylor. Okay" I said. "But I've got a few other examples of events that will help you understand why you think I'm aggressive." "We'll talk about it next week" he said. "Okay, sir" I said. "But it wasn't my fault if everybody was after a fourteen-year-old kid, and encouraging him to be crude and abusive to them." As I stood up, I stuck my hand inside my unzipped coveralls and groped myself, pretending to be subtle, but being obvious. He couldn't help but see it, but as he quickly looked away, I saw a look of embarrassment on his face. Since he was behind the table I couldn't actually see if he had a lump in his pants, but I was betting it was there. Oh yeah. He was not only intimidated by me, I think he was fascinated by a meaty black dick. Time would tell. I figured a prison psychologist couldn't be as helpful as a Deputy Warden, but it wouldn't hurt to have someone in an `official capacity' under my control. ----------- So, here I was, in the process of getting a new prison under my control. With his connections, Jamal got me assigned to a lenient judge, so I got only seven years, eighteen months for good behavior. But I was determined to get this place set up to my liking. Unfortunately, both the Warden and the Deputy Warden were grizzled old political hacks who I knew would be immune to my animal magnetism. Hell, they lived in their offices and were on the phone all the time, so the prisoners never saw either one of them. After destroying Leeshawn I was well on my way to getting control, but I had a long list of objectives. First of all, I needed a boytoy. Some cute young thing, preferably white, that I could train to serve me and become my regular fuck boy. I found out almost immediately that this was going to be a lot harder than `Baltimore City', because they put the young guys in a wing by themselves. Jensen's boy `Otto' was 27 years old, too old to be in the `youth' wing, and Omar didn't have a boy of his own. I wanted a young muscly one, preferably a teenager, but they were locked away. Yeah, they segregated the young ones. It was supposed to be for those between eighteen and twenty-two but there were some slightly older who were particularly `pretty', and some who were overly effeminate. And that was pure discrimination. I mean, who decided if a guy was `pretty' or `effeminate'? Did the warden pick them out? Total discrimination. Although the young pretty ones were in their own wing, they mixed with the regulars during the day, but as long as they kept away from the showers, they were okay. So, I picked out a few cute studs with attitude that might fit my requirements, even though they were temporarily out of reach. My next priority was getting a phone. I can't be Boss of the `Family' if I don't have contact with Jamal to give the orders. And actually, this might be more important to me at the moment than satisfying my prick. So, I got to work on Latisha, and within a week I had a phone. I got the other guards, Fred, Jacy and Ellen in on it so I'd be notified of searches. There were still other guards not on my payroll, so I had to be very careful when I used it. What I arranged, was for Fred to come by once in the morning and once in the afternoon and stand guard while I talked to Jamal. Problem solved. ------------- I felt I had a good start on my manipulation of Ezekiel Taylor, the psychologist, so I was really looking forward to my next meeting with him. Besides, I hadn't had any sex except with my right hand for over a month and I was dying to get my cock into some tight hole. Ezekiel was my candidate for that honor, and I didn't intend to wait much longer. "Hello, Dr. Taylor" I said happily as I entered the conference room and sat at the table. Ezekiel was already there with his papers spread about on his side of the table. "Hello, Mr. White" he said. "Well, you're in a good mood today. That's great. I thought we'd start by talking about this `Family' I've been hearing about. You want to tell me about it?" "Sure" I said with a grin. "It's the `Black Guerrilla Family' in Baltimore and I run it. I'm the Boss." "You're the Boss? How's that, since you're here in prison." "Yeah, I'm Boss. I just have to have a phone so I can keep in touch on a regular basis." "You know phones aren't allowed. How do you plan to manage that?" "Where there's a will, there's a way. I'll figure it out" I replied with a grin. "You ever piss on anyone, Dr. Taylor?" "I beg your pardon?" "You want to know about my aggression, so I thought I'd tell you about the times I pissed on someone." "Why would you want to do that?" he asked. "Hey, I'm a Dom, a true alpha male, and I'm always in command. I own the people I'm fucking and if I want to piss on them, I will." "What does that do for you?" "It's a feeling of power, Dr. Taylor. A feeling of superiority. And it makes me hot; it makes my dick hard." "Ahhh..., Davon... ahhh" he stuttered. "Remember that story I told you about last week? The twat, her mother and brother? The brother turned out to be a wimp, a total pussy, so once, just for the hell of it, I took him into the backyard and pissed on him." "Mr. White, we need to..." "Then I made him shower before I fucked him" I laughed. "That was fucking funny, making him wash my piss off before I stuck my dick up his ass. You would not believe how much that turned me on." "Mr. White, what we need to do today..." "Then there was that time I was at `make-out point' and saw this couple walk into the woods, so I followed them. When I found them, they had both pulled their shorts and underwear down and he was starting to push his dick into her." "Davon, that's enough" he said. "I don't want to hear it." "That time I admit, I was aggressive" I said, ignoring him. "But they were white kids, a cute teenage couple and they really got me all hot and bothered, so I stripped down to the buff and walked over to join them. `Well, what have we here?' I said. They both looked up at me in shock, and when they saw my huge, muscled frame and my enormous cock sticking out in all its ten-inch glory they were shocked even more." "Davon, stop" Taylor said. Amazingly enough, he still wouldn't look at me. He was staring down at the papers on the table. I had stood up to better describe the event and had put one hand down into my crotch, playing with myself so he'd notice. "So, I just climbed on top of him and spread his legs. Even then as a kid I was considerate, so I rubbed a big wad of spit on my prick before I pushed in. He was really tight and let out a howl as I pushed in and started squirming like crazy. I put my arm around his neck to hold him and just pushed in deeper." "Davon..." "When the girl tried to get away, I grabbed her by the hair with my other hand and jerked her back" I said without even hesitating. "So, there I was, strangling him with my right arm, holding her there by the hair, both of them screaming bloody murder, as I fucked the bejesus out of him. You cannot imagine how exciting that was. I came so fast that ...." "Davon" he shouted as he stood up. "Stop it, or I'll have to call the guard." "Okay, okay, Ezekiel, I'll stop" I laughed. But ...." "That's just enough" he said. He was finally looking up, but he avoided looking me in the eye. "I'm sorry I called you Davon, Mr. White, but we must be formal here. You're Mr. White and I'm Dr. Taylor." "Okay, Dr. Taylor, but this is important. This changed my life" I said as I sat back down at the table. "At the time I didn't quite understand why they were being so uncooperative," I continued "and it annoyed the hell out of me. I mean, I was just a young kid having a little fun, and besides, I didn't really hurt them much, not that you'd notice. But the girl kicked me in the balls, and even though it was her bare foot it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and really made me angry. So, after I fucked their brains out, I pissed on them. That's what I wanted you to know." "Mr. White" he snapped. "That's why you're here. Your aggression." "Yes, sir" I answered. "But ...." "Are you done?" he snapped at me. "Yes, sir. Sorry" I said. "But I wanted you to know what an incredibly enlightening experience that was for me at that young age. It really did change my life, because, well, I admit, it was the most exciting thing I'd ever done. And I loved doing it." "We'll not have that kind of outburst again or I'll have a guard in here" he said. "Sorry Dr. Taylor" I said. "But do you think it be easier for us to talk if you were on this side of the table next to me?" "What? Ahhh... what?" "You. Sitting right here, next to me." "No, I don't think so. No." "Sure it would" I said. "You right here next to me, we could get all friendly like." "Mr. White, you must stop..." "Come over here, Ezekiel" I said firmly, interrupting him. "Bring your chair around here." "Mr. White, you're getting very aggressive." "You don't know the half of it" I said as I got up and walked around the table. Pulling his chair back, I grabbed it with him still on it, and carried it around to my side of the table. "That's better" I said as I sat him down, right next to my chair. He was so shocked that he didn't even offer any resistance, but he did start sputtering. "Mr. White. No. Stop it. Don't, don't" he sputtered. "This is definitely better, Ezekiel" I said as I sat down, put my arm around his shoulders, and pulled him into a hug. "Davon, I'm going to get the guard." "No, you're not" I said as I grabbed the back of his head, turned him towards me and started kissing him. Holding his head tight I kissed him with deep spit exchanging kisses, literally taking his breath away. He tried to mumble something, but I wouldn't let up. With my other hand I grabbed him by the wrist and jammed his hand down inside my coveralls forcing him to feel my enormous, fully hard donkey dick. "It'd be better if you kissed me back" I said as I momentarily let him up for breath. "Please, Davon. Please don't do this" he whimpered, and I saw he had tears in his eyes. Can you believe it? No anger, just shock and fear. Sudden acknowledgement of my power over him as he begged for mercy. "You're going to love it, babe" I answered and kept forcing him to grope my dick as I went back to the kiss. There was a long period of silence in the room, except for soft kissing sounds. I was kissing him aggressively, forcing my tongue into his mouth until he finally started to kiss me back. Yes, it took a while, but he was actually kissing me back. Hell, I knew all the time he was turned on to me. Frightened and apprehensive yes, but still turned on. This went on for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and at one point I let go of his hand, but he kept playing with my prick on his own. Yeah, honest to god, he did. I now owned him. Eventually, I pulled away from the kiss and started stripping him. "Please, Davon, don't do this" he whimpered as I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. He was crying softly as he said it. "It's okay, honey" I whispered softly into his ear. "It's okay. You now Davon's, honey. You mine." I undid his belt and pants, pulled him to his feet, and pushed them and his underwear down to his ankles. "No, Davon, no" he blubbered, crying more now. "Don't you worry, honey. I'll go easy. I've got a big prick so it's going to hurt some, but I'll go easy. First time is hard, but next time will be better." Leading him to the end of the table as he kept sobbing, I bent him over it on his belly and pushed his legs apart. Pushing my coveralls back over my shoulders I let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them. I flexed my enormous arms and grinned as I looked down at this little man, preparing to feed him my enormous black dick. Pressing against his butt and bending over him, I grabbed some hair, lifted his head and gave his ear a lick. "It's gonna be good, honey. You gonna get fucked by Davon White." He was sobbing softly but uncontrollably as I spread the cream I'd sneaked in, into his crack and onto my big ramrod. I worked his butt for a few minutes, getting a couple fingers in his hole, loosening him up as he just lay there whimpering softly but offering no resistance. Then, holding him by the shoulders and taking careful aim, I slowly but firmly pushed into his tiny pucker. "Davon, Davon" he mumbled through his crying. "It's okay, baby" I said. "Just relax. Open up and let me in. Come on, baby, take Davon's big dick." Putting my hand over his mouth just in case, I kept pushing until I felt the monstrous head of my prick pop into his tight hole. "Yeah, baby. Your ass was just made for Davon's dick. Shit, yeah." I was not going to pound it to him because, as much as possible, I wanted this to be good for him. I mean, I'd conquered him, and I wanted him to stay conquered. Besides, a slow easy fuck can be nice sometimes, just for variety. So, I fucked him. On and on and on I fucked him, for over half an hour, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. `Hot ass baby; real sweet, honey; ain't no stud like Davon, baby; my big pecker loves your ass, baby; sweet, baby, sweet; your giving your ass to a god, baby; your ass is mine, honey" and on and on and on. Always going slow and easy, gradually going deeper and deeper, it was a good ten minutes or more before I got all ten inches of my prick into him. He cried softly on and on, which eventually turned to soft whimpering. I took my hand off his mouth early on because he was taking it very well, whimpering and crying the whole time, but doing it very softly. After a good half hour of exquisite pleasure, I started to pick up speed and let the heat buildup in my balls as my prick kept forcing its way into his tight little hole. It was heavenly. Partly because he was a virgin, and taking virgins is my specialty, but mostly because he was the psychologist who was supposed to be changing my behavior. Yeah, him changing my behavior, what a laugh. In all truth, he never stood a chance, because from the first time I saw him, I knew it was just a matter of time before I was going to have him bent over this table taking my dick. Speeding up just slightly, I felt the heat begin to build up. I closed my eyes and pictured Craig in my mind, the enormous muscled guard from `Baltimore City', imagining him under me taking my big dick up his muscled ass. Skinny little be-speckled runts like Ezekiel didn't do it for me, but gorgeous muscle stud Craig got me hot in an instant. I get really crazy when I reach my peak, so I slammed into his ass, probably mashing his little dick into the table. Then grabbing a handful of hair, I slammed into him one final time and let loose. "Ohhh shhhiiit, Craig" I screamed. "Ohhh shhhiiit." My big dick firing time after time into this tight ass was heavenly, a world of difference from a hand job. After I finished and began to calm down, I bent over him and just licked his ear for a bit. He was still crying, but more from the situation than from the pain. I was easy on him so I know rubbing against his prostate must have eventually felt good. Oh, he'd be sore for a couple days, and he'd never forget that he'd had Davon White's monster prick up his ass, but he was probably more embarrassed than hurt. Very gently, I pulled my softening prick out of his ass and pulled him up to his feet. Reaching down, I grabbed his pants and underwear, pulled them up and reaching around him, zipped them up and fastened his belt. Putting my hand under him, I lifted him into my arms and carried him away from the table and laid him down on the floor on the thick rug. Lying down beside him, I leaned over and started giving him gentle kisses on his face, everywhere except his lips. "Nobody's done this to me before," he sobbed. "I know baby, I know" I said softly as I removed his glasses and continued kissing his face: his cheek, his nose, his eyes, his forehead, kissing on and on. "But it was good for me, honey. Real good. And I know it was good for you too. Wasn't it?" "It hurt, Davon. It really hurt." "I know, baby. I know" I said softly as I moved my kisses to his neck and now started petting his hair as well. "But sometimes a little pain is good. What you gave to me today is something wonderful. Something really special. Giving up a little pain to me, Davon White, shows a true understanding and respect for me. I appreciate it more than you can imagine, and I love you for it." "Mmmm" he murmured, a sound coming from the back of his throat. "You do understand don't you, that it's okay to respect me? Huh?" I said as I raised my head and looked him in the face. "Sure, I'm a dominant stud, a beefcake, a real man's man, and I've got these manly needs that are sometimes overwhelming, but that's just who I am. You can't change that, and neither can I. Do you understand that?" "I... I... I think so, Davon, I think so" he mumbled. "Kiss me" I said. Raising his head, he started kissing me and slowly raised an arm and put it around me. I let him take control and just followed his lead as the deep tongue kissing went on and on. When he finally pulled back from the kiss, I put my arm around his neck and pulled his face into my chest and started petting his hair again. We just lay there for the longest time, me on my back and him on his side with his head on my chest. Neither of us said a word, as I hugged him to me and continued petting his hair. I felt a couple tears on my chest at first, but he put his hand on my shoulder after a couple minutes and started hugging me back, pulling himself in close. Twice during that time, I felt a feather like touch of his lips as he kissed my chest. It was real, I wasn't imagining it. We were over the hump now because he was actually starting to show affection. It was so quiet and so comfortable that I almost dozed off, and I think he did too. "Well, I guess we'd better cleanup" I said softly as I pulled his face back away from my chest and gave him a quick kiss. "I think I've made you late." Believe it or not, he actually chuckled. "Yes, I do believe I'm late" he said. I picked up his shirt, helped him put it on, and then buttoned it up for him. "That was wonderful, Ezekiel" I said as I climbed into my coveralls. "I loved it, and I love you." Stepping over to him I gave him a big hug and a final long kiss. "Mmmmm. Mmmmmm" was his reply. Going over to the table, I stacked his papers and handed them to him. "You okay with this, hon? Huh?" "Yeah, Davon" he said with a sly smile. "I'm okay." I was escorted back to my cell. Okay, so I'm a contemptuous son-of-a-bitch, but I owned that white motherfucker now. Lock, stock and barrel, he was mine. Just another toy for me to play with. And he was the god damn psychologist. Not a Deputy Warden, but somebody who was supposed to be smarter than a Deputy Warden. But now you know, ain't nobody can stand up to Davon White's charms and manipulations. You think I'm cynical? Hell, I personify the word. As always, your comments are very important to me. Please take a moment to respond. Please remember to support Nifty for providing access to all these stories. gladiatorkid@hotmail.com ddcolwell@live.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/davon-white-superstud/davon-white-superstud-2

Date: Fri, 17 May 2024 14:41:31 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter Two This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black man with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with nonconsensual sex between characters. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Two It took only a couple seconds to figure out why I was in such a good mood when I woke up. For the first ten seconds or so I thought I must have had a wonderful dream, and then it came to me that I had something to do today; something more wonderful than a dream and the big tent sticking up in the middle of my blanket was telling me to get started. I threw the blanket off and stood up, and yeah, I had one hell of a boner, near seven inches around, at least ten inches long, and throbbing. The boy was lying on his back, his mouth open and drooling, and looked as cute as a button. White boys have such pretty lips, nice and red and rosy, and there were few things I liked better than seeing them wrapped around my black dick. I wet my finger and rubbed it back and forth over those plump pink smoochers, the gateway to the tunnel of my delight. Louis' lessons in deep throat sucking were starting this morning. I jerked his blanket off, grabbed his arm flipping him over, and gave him a healthy slap on the ass. "Yeeeaaaoh" he hollered as he woke up sputtering. "Hey" he yelled. "Get up, baby" I said grinning broadly at him. "We got a big day ahead." Then he remembered, and the look of shock on his face turned to fear. "Up, up" I said as I grabbed his arm and pulled. He had to untangle his feet from the blanket to keep from falling on his head as I pulled him off the bunk. "Don't wear your clothes to bed again. I want you sleeping in the nude." He didn't say anything but stepped back to get away from me. I reached over and gave him an openhanded slap to the face. (wack) He howled and then howled again as I backhanded him. Then I grabbed his hair with one hand and his chin with the other, jerked him over so his chin was actually touching my chest and he was looking directly up into my eyes. "I don't expect you to remember everything I taught you yesterday, but you damn well better remember what to say when I speak to you" I shouted fiercely into his face, my spittle splattering all over him. "What do you say?" "Yes, master" he gulped and repeated. "Yes, master." "Little shit" I said as I pushed him backwards, so he landed on his ass on the floor. I walked over to the toilet and with some difficulty, forced my still mostly hard prick down so I could take a healthy piss. Turning back to Louis I shouted: "on your knees." He jumped to obey. "Yes, master." "Better" I said. "Put your head on the floor." "Yes, master" he said as he pressed his forehead to the floor. I walked over and slid a foot under his face. "Kiss my foot" I ordered him. He didn't hesitate for even a second but gave my foot a kiss. "Now what do you say?" "Ahhh... yes, Mas... ahhh... thank you, master." "Thank me for what?" "Ahhh... thank you... ahhh... thank you for letting me kiss your foot?" "Say it again and say it like you mean it." "Thank you, master, for letting me kiss your foot." Can you believe this? He hadn't even been here a full day yet and he was well along on becoming my slave. You bet I know how to train a kid. "Not bad, kid. You'll learn. Now let's see about breakfast." You gotta understand that I am an expert trainer. I'd trained several guys here inside the prison, and a couple on the outside, to be my fuck boys. Two guys from my own gang had been my fuck boys at one time, and I can tell you something, it's just like training a dog. You punish him for doing the wrong thing, and you keep punishing him until he learns how to do the right thing. Positive reinforcement is okay, praising him for doing something right, but I'm not partial to it. Negative reinforcement, punishment, is a lot more effective and is retained longer. My experience has shown me that being rough at the beginning, really rough, makes for a really positive attitude later on. I demand total obedience from my fuck boys, and they will damn-well cower and grovel before me. So, you bet, I'm rough on them. They learn almost immediately that I may be an amazing looking stud, totally glorious to look at with such incredibly perfect features and muscles like they've never seen before, but I can be a nasty son-of-a-bitch as well, and they must not only obey me, but they must do it instantly and cheerfully. Yeah, cheerfully, happy that I'm allowing them to serve me. And I admit I'm not easy to please. I let them know from the beginning that I'm never quite satisfied and they need to try harder. I mean, if they do exactly what I tell them to do and I kick their ass anyway, it sinks into their brain that somehow, they've got to outdo themselves. You'd be amazed how slavish a kid can be after I've kicked his ass a few times. It gets to the point where even a nasty word from me, like `suck harder, bitch' almost becomes a positive thing and drives them to a frenzy of activity because, at least, I'm not hitting them. ----------- After we got back from breakfast, I showed him where the shampoo and soap and stuff were, and we headed down to get a shower. I don't feel like I must put on a show for the other prisoners, so I don't put my boys through their paces in the shower room. They just wash me and dry me. Hell, just the sound effects coming from my cell when I'm training them is probably more of a show than most of the guys can handle anyway, and I suppose they blow their wads over and over again just listening. I took off my towel when we got back to the cell and told him to take his off as well, so we both stood there in the nude. "You like my body, boy?" "Yes, master." "Tell me what you see" I ordered. "Tell me what you see that you like." "Ahhh... master. Ahhhh..." Of course, he was nervous because he knew I'd kick his ass if he said the wrong thing. "I see a huge, ah... a giant... a giant muscle man. I see... I see a handsome black muscle hunk. I see... I see strength, muscle strength. Yeah, real muscle strength. I see incredibly enormous muscles, Master. I see a muscleman, a true muscleman, ahhh... a superman." "You see a god? A muscle god? You see Davon, your muscle master?" I asked. "Yes, master, ahhh... Davon. Ahhh I see... I see my ahhh... I see a muscle god." "Who is your master? Is this muscle god your master?" I started getting a warm and fuzzy feeling inside because I love this shit, and okay, so I'm fucking vain. Hell, anybody sees me knows I gotta be the most arrogant and narcissistic guy on the planet. With a body and face like mine you know it goes with the territory. "You are... ahhh..., master. You're my master" he said, his voice quavering. "You're my ahhh... my ahhh... my muscle god." "Where's my jockey shorts?" "Ahhh,.. master?" "From last night" I said. He stepped over to the bunk and pulled them out from under the pillow and brought them to me. "You wear them on your head last night?" "Yes, master. I... I tried. Ahhh... when... when I could." I knew he'd pull them off in his sleep so I couldn't really fault him for that. "Open your mouth" I directed, and as he did, I stuffed about half of the crusted underwear in. "Now go stand in the corner while I make some calls. Keep your eyes on me in case I need anything." Without argument he went to the corner while I sat and made some calls making sure everything was okay. I glanced over occasionally, to see that his eyes never wavered from mine, and he didn't budge from the corner. His face was flushed, and I could see him shaking occasionally. Just having him standing there was putting the fear of God into him and was great training because it emphasized my total dominance over him. "Davon" someone called and as I looked up, I saw Ralph standing in the hall. "Hey, Ralph" I responded. "Jamal, I'll call you back" I said into the phone. "I got a call from the Warden this morning" Ralph said. "Yeah, so did I. I just told him you forgot about Carl wanting a transfer. I suppose he chewed you out." "You could say that. Look, Davon. He put the screws to me about putting this young white kid in with you. He wanted to know why it was changed and if you'd pressured me in some way." "Well, shit, Ralph. Just make something up, for god's sake, just like I do. Just tell him what he wants to hear." "Come on, Davon. You're putting me on the spot here, and if we're not careful you're going to get me into trouble." "Well, that's to fuckin bad" I said as I got up and walked over to the bars, still totally nude. "You shoulda thought of that before you agreed to be my errand boy. You should have thought of that before I gave you a Mercedes." "Come on, Davon. You gotta help here. Please. The Warden is going to be watching, so just cool it with the kid, okay?" "Come here, kid" I said as I turned to Louis and waved him over. He'd heard our conversation and probably guessed he was not going to get any support from Ralph, so the terror was still showing in his face. "Take that out of your mouth" I ordered. "Yes, master" he said as he pulled my underwear out of his mouth. "Master?" Ralph asked. "We're just playing around" I said with a laugh as I put my arm around Louis' shoulders and gave him a hug. "Shit, Ralph, I gotta do something in this place for entertainment. Don't I Louis? You and me, we're having fun here aren't we?" "Yes, master" Louis answered with a quiver in his voice. I gave him a grin and another one arm hug, almost pulling him off his feet. "Jesus, Davon. It's only been a day" Ralph said in awe. "I don't fuck around, Ralph" I said giving him a grin. "I'll take good care of Louis, and me and him are going to get along fine. Aren't we, Louis?" "Yes, master." "Okay, Davon" Ralph said. "But please. Please be careful. Who's going to handle your arrangements if you get me fired? Think about that, okay?" "Okay, Ralph. Okay. Don't worry. I'll cool it." As Ralph walked away, I gave Louis a pat on the butt and then a good squeeze. "Back in the corner till I'm ready, slave boy. I got a couple more calls to make." "Yes, master." His fear of me was growing and he was really shaking now as he went back into the corner. "And put my underwear back into your mouth and suck on it. It better be soaking wet when I finish my calls." So, I got Jamal back on the phone so he could tell me what was happening today. "Hi, Davon." "Oh fuck" I mumbled as I looked up and saw Jackie at the cell door. "Can't get a damn thing done around here" I said. "Okay, Jamal" I said into the phone. "You take care of it. I'll call you later." "Hi ya Jackie" I said sweetly as I walked up to the bars still completely nude with my big dick hanging down. Then whispering into her ear: "How's my bitch today?" I reached through the bars and kissed her and grabbed her butt and gave it a good squeeze. She giggled like a little schoolgirl. "You haven't seen my tattoo for a while, Davon. Now that Carl's gone maybe I can show it to you more often" she said in what she thought was a sultry voice, which I thought sounded like a retarded ten-year-old. "Hell, Jackie. I've got this new kid now and I'm going to be showing him the ropes, so I'll be tied up this week. Maybe next week." Then I whispered in her ear again: "and I can hardly wait to feel those sweet lips of yours on my ....." I grabbed her ass again and gave it another squeeze. "Oh, Davon. You are wicked" she giggled. "You are so wicked." Yeah, she giggled. I say shit like that, and they eat it up. "Don't make me wait to see my tattoo, Jackie" I said in my sexiest voice, a husky lascivious bass voice. "Let me see it right here and now." "Ohhh, Davon. We can't" she said as she giggled some more. "Not here." I grabbed her hand and pulled it to my dick to let her play with it while I reached through the bars and unbuttoned the top four buttons of her blouse. "Ohhh, Davon. Ohhh" she moaned, almost creaming her panties right on the spot as she fondled my dick while I pulled her bra up a couple inches uncovering the tattoo. DAVON, in red decorative letters right below her right tit, right where I'd kissed her the first time I'd fucked her. Sticking out my tongue I gave the tattoo a long wet sloppy kiss. "Ohhh, Davon. You make me so hot" she murmured as she pulled her hand back and quickly straightened her bra and re-buttoned her blouse. "Soon, baby, soon" I said as I gave her a couple slaps on the butt and turned back into the cell. "Shouldn't you get dressed, Davon?" "Givin you a show, Jackie" I said as I flopped my mostly hard dick up and down a couple times. "Givin you a show." Strangely, I hadn't even realized I was still naked, so I stepped over and got a pair of shorts and pulled them on. It was okay because it would give Louis a chance to explore before he got on my dick. "Come here, Louis" I said as I sat down in the chair. He came over, and as I pointed to the floor, got on his knees. "Are those wet" I asked. He shook his head yes. "We'll see." "Now, understand, Louis. If I hit you, you probably deserve it, or maybe I just feel like hitting you. But truth is, you'll learn faster if you get punished. Got that?" Now the tears showed up in his eyes again. He was terrified but he shook his head yes anyway. "Now, I'm kind of particular about how my slave boys act. You do what I want, and you do what I tell you, and nothing else. Nothing. You're here to serve me and absolutely nothing else. You watch me like a hawk and if I want something, you jump. You don't even think of anything except how to best serve me. Can you do that?" I could see beads of sweat on his forehead caused by his fear, but after taking a deep gulp, he shook his head yes. "Good, boy" I said as I patted him on the cheek and then pulled my shorts out of his mouth. "Now I'm going to hit you. Sometimes I'll hit you just for the hell of it, but now I'm going to do it because it's going to help you remember what I just said. Do you understand?" "Please, Davon" he said and sniffled a couple times. "I'll ignore that. But I want to hear you say you want me to hit you." I grabbed him by the hair and shook him. "Say it." "Yes, master" he whimpered. "Say it" I said sternly. "I want... I want you to hit me." "Master." "Master." "Stand up and put your hands behind your back." I stood up, towering over him from my 6'4" height, and slugged him in the jaw with my fist before he was even fully standing up. He flew back and lost his balance and ended up on his butt. I just stood there and waited for him to get over the shock. And you bet he was shocked, his eyes bugging out of his head. I didn't hit him all that hard, just enough to knock him down, but I gave him a minute to recover anyway. When he finally seemed to focus on me, I snapped my fingers and pointed to the floor in front of me. He crawled over and looked up at me. "I'm waiting for a thank you." Again, that shocked look on his face with the tears dripping down. But he said it. "Thank you, master." "How about it, babe?" I said with a laugh. "You want a second helping of Davon cock? Hmm? Or maybe this is the third helping. I've lost track." Putting one big paw behind his head I pulled him into my crotch. "Just rub your nose up and down it and get a good sniff. You and my big wanger gonna have a love affair, baby. True love. You gonna crave it and you ain't never gonna be able to get enough." I removed my hand and just let him rub his face over the enormous bulge in my Jockey's. Louis was going to find out that I meant what I said about the love affair, because I could spend hours with a kid's face in my crotch; rubbing and kissing and licking and sucking. A three-hour blow job on a quiet afternoon when you got nothing better to do can be fabulous. "Yeah, good boy. I like that" I said as he rubbed his nose up and down my cock. "Okay, now start sucking on it, baby. Chew on it a little, real light like. Make love to my beautiful prick." I just watched as he started sucking my big bulge and nibbling on it. I enjoyed the view and just let him go at it for a couple minutes, letting him think I was satisfied. But I already told you about my methods: punishment and more punishment. So, grabbing a hunk of hair, I jerked his head up and gave him an open-handed slap to the face and pushed him over backwards. "Yeaoh" he yelled as he looked at me with a shocked look. I got down on top of him on my knees, sitting on his belly, and grabbed a hunk of hair again. "You call that sucking, you stupid little shit?" I yelled into his face and backhanded him. "Yeaoh" he yelled again. Flipping him over, I picked up the underwear he'd been sucking on. He was crying aloud as I tore the shorts in two and used them to tie his hands behind his back. Standing up and pulling him up to his knees by the hair, I walked over to the toilet dragging him behind me. Pulling my shorts down and off I put them over his head, and dragging him closer, pushed his head into the toilet. Holding him there with one hand I aimed my cock with the other and started to piss. Aiming the stream carefully, I soaked his head and hair and my shorts with my hot yellow piss. When I gotta piss, I gotta piss, so it went on and on. He was still weeping softly when I finally finished. Removing my shorts from his head I put them on the back of the toilet. "We'll save these for later, baby" I laughed. Pulling his head up so he was looking at me, I gave him a big smile. Both of his cheeks were red from where I'd hit him, his head and hair were completely soaked and dripping, and he looked like a bedraggled mess. Now, as I've told you, this is Louis' training program, so now I needed to emphasize what I'd done and get it cleared through his brain how a slave treats his master. "I tell you to suck cock, slave boy, you suck cock. You don't play at it. Got it?" "Yes, master" he cowered. "Tell me you're sorry for doing such a shitty job." He only hesitated for a couple seconds before he answered. "I'm sorry, master." "Thank me for punishing you. Go on, say it." "Thank you for punishing me" he whimpered. "Okay, baby. You're doing real good so far. I'm impressed. But now you're gonna thank me for pissing on you" I said with a grin. "You gonna tell me you love having me piss on your head." I knew this was going to be a hard one, and it was, because there was a long pause but no answer. I slugged him. When you're training a guy, you don't overdo it, you hit him just hard enough so that he knows you mean it. He damn well knew I was serious this time because he sat there shaking while I walked away and made a call to one of my dealers. He was afraid to move. I gave him a couple minutes to recover as he looked over at me in total terror. With a big smile on my face, I walked over to him and got on my knees. "Ple.... Ma..." he mumbled as he cringed back from me. I suppose he was trying to say please master. I put my finger to his lips: "Shhh" I said softly as I grinned at him. "I got piss on my hand, baby" I said as I held up the hand I'd used to hold his head in the toilet. "Lick it off." You wonder how a kid with a totally shocked look on his face can look even more shocked. But Louis could. "Lick" I said and of course he licked. Obviously, my hand was mostly dry by now, but it still had a good piss smell. I had him lick it all over and then suck on each finger. "Say thank you" I ordered while keeping that big smile on my face. Jesus this was fun. "Thank you, master." I got up and walked over to my bunk and lay down on my back. "Come here" I said, snapping my fingers. "Kneel between my legs." It was probably the snapping of my fingers that got to him, but he was there in three seconds and climbing on my bunk which wasn't easy since his hands were tied. "Look at me" I ordered as I put my hands behind my head, looking completely relaxed. But even when I'm relaxed, I'm pretty damn awesome. Louis was looking at a vision of perfection in a human male animal. Super handsome face, enormous shoulders attached to swollen biceps, and a chest that was truly amazing. Even lying on my back totally relaxed my pecs looked like bulging slabs of steel. With his hair still dripping and tears streaming down his cheeks Louis looked totally bedraggled, but he stared me in the eye. "You like what you see?" "Ahhh... yes, master." At this point I knew it didn't matter what I asked, he was going to answer: `yes master'. Basically, he had no idea how lucky he was that I was giving him my time and training him to service a god like me. I mean, shit, anyone sees me, male and female, starts drooling and fantasizing about how thrilling it would be to get it on with me. Give it time and I would make sure he properly appreciated the time and effort I was putting into working with him. "Anytime I say something to you, you answer `thank you master'. Got it?" "Yes, master" he quailed. There was a long pause while I waited. It took him almost fifteen seconds to realize he'd done something wrong, but then he caught on and replied. "Yes, master. Thank you, master. Ahhh... thank you master" he blurted out. I reached up and slapped him, a friendly slap that hardly stung at all. "Anytime I hit you, you thank me" I said calmly. "Thank you, master" he replied. "Now tell me you loved having me piss on you. I want to hear you say it." There was still a slight hesitation but not much. "I loved having you piss on me, master." "Tell me you want me to do it again." "Ohhh... man" he said under his breath, barely audible, but then he gulped and said softly. "I want... I want you to do it again, master." "Do you really?" I chuckled. "What do you want me to do again?" "I want you to piss on me again, master." "Good boy. Good boy" I said as I chuckled and patted his cheek gently. "You'll get your chance, I promise you. Now let's see what you can do with my cock. Get on it." Louis bent over and took my cock in his mouth as I put my hands back behind my head, took a deep breath, and relaxed. I intended to really enjoy the next half hour or so while my new slave boy agonized over trying to please me by giving me the best blowjob he could possibly manage. Okay, so Louis ain't much of a cocksucker; I knew that from the beginning, but damn if he didn't try to satisfy me. He got my big dick against the opening of his throat at least a dozen times before he was finally able to control the choking and gagging, which is pretty good for a first timer. But there was no way I was going to be satisfied with him sucking only five inches, even for a beginner. I gave him fifteen minutes to play around and get the choking under control before I pushed into his throat. He upchucked a couple times while I was doing it, but over the next forty-five minutes or so I forced a couple inches of my big dong into his tight throat several times. I still had about three inches to go but I knew I couldn't expect any more on his first try. His eyes were tearing, and he was gasping for breath with snot coming from his nose as I jerked him up off my cock. "You are fucking worthless as a cocksucker, you little shit" I barked at him as I gave his head a jerk. "My twelve-year-old brother can do better than that." That was only partially true since my brother wasn't twelve anymore, but you gotta put the screws to a slave to make him bust his ass and try harder. "I'm sorry man. Ahhh... master" he wheezed through his sore throat. I know a lot of guys would just ram their cock into their cocksucker at this point, but I ain't no sadist, not really. I could feel for the kid. I mean, I don't want to maim him; I just want to be sure he's giving one hundred ten percent of effort to please me. Of course, I don't much care if his throat is hurting and he's got a few bruises, because that's what it takes to serve a stud like me. But I don't want his throat so sore that I can't get in there again real soon. I didn't' intend to wait forever to get all ten inches of cock buried in this kid's face. Lucky for me Carl was still available, and he was a deep throat artist. He was great and gave me terrific ejaculations, but he was becoming boring, and I usually had to slap him around a little to keep it interesting and to keep my dick hard. While Louis was a virgin cocksucker and couldn't handle all my cock yet, it was always exciting screwing my boner into a newbie's face while the saliva spewed from his mouth and the tears streamed down his cheeks. "Fuckin worthless piece of shit" I said again as he continued gasping and blubbering. I gave him a few seconds to recover and then grabbing his hair with one hand, gave him a slap with the other, just enough to sting. Again, this is how you train a guy. You call him out and then you slap him around to get his attention. Next time around you can bet he'll give one hundred twenty percent of effort. "You can't do shit with your mouth, so get your hands up here and jerk me off" I said as I reached over him and tore the underwear apart that was holding his hands. He was still gasping and crying, but he heard the anger in my voice, and since he was now free, grabbed my cock with both hands. Let me tell you, ten inches leaves plenty of room for two hands, and a mouth too. I pushed his head back down. "Take it in your mouth, dumb ass. Suck on it while you jerk it. Make me feel good for god's sake." Louis was totally under my control now and completely submissive and would do anything to keep me from hurting him, but at the moment he was so caught up in his pain that he wasn't concentrating on my needs. "Gently, you stupid prick. Pay attention to what you're doing." A slap to the side of the head got his attention and he started to pump my dick evenly with both hands while sucking on the head. "That's it. Just like that" I said, giving him some encouragement. "Now bring me off." He was still weeping but at least he was paying attention to what he was doing. With all the delightful feelings I'd been getting from fucking his face, I'd been holding myself on the very edge of cuming for the whole time, so I was ready to shoot. And I figured it was about time to give Louis some positive reinforcement. "That's the way, baby" I said as I petted his cheek and then rubbed his neck. "Getting me close, baby. That's it. That's it. Keep it up." Putting my hand behind his head so he wouldn't be able to pull back, I fired my first shot into his mouth. And let me tell you it is super-hot spending an hour training a new cocksucker on his first blowjob. I was totally freaking out as I fired shot after shot into him, probably making it feel like bullets shooting into the back of his throat. Louis was swallowing but my cum was overwhelming him and he started to choke. I wasn't about to let him off the hook now, so I pulled back just a bit, keeping the tip of my cock in his mouth. He tried to push away but of course his strength couldn't begin to compare with mine, so he choked and spit most of my cum into my crotch. Even after I stopped shooting, I still held him there as he choked and gasped and swallowed and got himself back together. "Keep it in your mouth, baby. Keep sucking" I said, and now that he was somewhat back under control, he started sucking again. "That's it, baby. Nice and easy. Just enjoy it." I let him go for maybe five minutes of gentle sucking before I pushed his head back. "Don't worry, baby" I said as I held his chin and looked him in the eye. "I ain't gonna kick your ass for being a shitty cocksucker. Not yet anyway. You'll get better. I know you gonna be a number one cocksucker. You think so too, don't you?" "Huh?" "Clean out your fuckin ears. I said you're going to be my number one cocksucker, aren't you?" "Ahhh... yeah. Ahhh... yes, master" he said obediently. Giving him a big smile, I patted his cheek gently. "Good boy. Good boy. But you didn't swallow my jism, baby. Did you? Huh? Did you?" "Ahhh... no" he rasped through his sore throat. "Well, we don't want to waste it" I said sweetly giving him a big smile. "Get in there and lick it up." Putting my hand behind his head, I pushed him back down to my crotch and watched as he started licking. No complaints or comments or hesitations as he sucked up my cum. My crotch was soaked with his saliva and my cum and so were the sheets and mattress. Louis would be changing mattresses before we went to bed tonight, that was for sure. I just let him go at it for ten minutes or so, until I was satisfied that he'd sucked every bit of the cum and spit out of my crotch hairs. "Tell your master you like nigger cum, baby." There was a hesitation while he assimilated what I'd said, but he now understood that anything I said required instant obedience. "I like your cum, master." "Say it the way I said it" I ordered him. "I like your nigger cum, master" he replied. I backhanded him, nearly knocking him off the bed. "Don't ever use that word again" I snapped. "Bu..." he started to say but I raised my fist and he shut up. Alright, so I ain't fair sometimes. I'm the Boss and I'll do whatever the fuck I want. And if I want to play with my slave boys, I damn well will play with them. "Okay" I said as I pushed him off the bed. "Let's see if we can call Jackie so we can go take a shower." Taking my cell, I called her to come and take us down to the shower room. -------------- So, there we are. That's how you train a new slave. Hell, I could write the book. `How to turn a hunky stud into a slave in 24 hours.' I'd make a mint. I'd done it lots of times, and it worked every time. And you can bet that Louis will never again question anything I say, and I will never get a peep out of him no matter how down and dirty I get. And as a demanding dominant stud, I can really .get down and dirty. The only question you might have, I suppose, is did I rape Louis? And the answer of course is no. Maybe it was rape yesterday when I fucked him the first time, but not this time, not today. I told you that rape is my favorite sport and I know all about it like nobody does, but this wasn't rape. After all, he cooperated with me every step of the way. Well, naturally, I had to beat the crap out of him to get him to cooperate, but the fact is, he cooperated. Once he decides to go along with the action and obey me completely, it ain't rape anymore. And besides, having a guy locked in a cell with me removes a lot of the fun and the challenge of taking him down, because where the fuck is he going to go to get away from me? This session with Louis was pretty damn fulfilling, but it came with a letdown. Of course, he was going to be my regular fuck boy from now on, but the problem was, he was now trained. I like raping virgins, and I'd now done him. Next time he wouldn't get my juices flowing one thousand percent like it did today. I mean, on the outside I can pick up a new young punk off the street anytime, take him home and put the screws to him for a day or two of hot fucking. I can't do that in here. And besides, the training program was different here in prison because they're going to be my long-term slaves. Okay, I can show my power by working a guy over and having a whole lot of fun humiliating him and screwing the hell out of him even after he's been trained, but it ain't like raping a first timer. Rape is rape and there ain't nothing like it. Not even slave training. ----------- When I woke up the next morning, I lifted my foot and bounced Louis up and down a couple times almost throwing him out of the upper bunk. "Up and at `em, kid" I said. "Get your butt down here. We've got another big day ahead." He was a little slow getting up and almost fell on his ass as he jumped down, but that was no big deal because I knew he was going to be sore and probably black and blue in some places. I was glad to see he was naked as I told him, so I didn't have to kick his ass for that. "Just stand there, boy, and let me see what I got." He just stood there looking at me as I sat up on the bunk. "Stand up straight" I snapped. "Put your shoulder's back. Tighten those abs." He did what he was told, and I just admired him for a minute. He was black and blue on his chin and both cheeks were red, one eye looked like it was swollen a little, and he had a bruise in the middle of his chest. But once all that cleared up, he was going to be a very handsome boy. And his body. Really tight little muscles with excellent definition, all in perfect proportion to his body size. He was one hot little muscle stud. And believe it or not, his cute little six-inch dick was sticking out and waving at me. He either had a morning hard-on or he was totally turned on to me and loved being abused. I smiled as I decided to believe that it must be the latter. "Give me a double biceps pose" I said. "Show me those big guns of yours." He immediately performed a front double bicep pose, so I knew he'd practiced in front of mirrors. "Flex `em, babe. Come on, flex those big arms." He crunched them a couple times frying to force the biceps even bigger. "Give me all seven compulsories, babe. Show me that hot body of yours." "Yes, master" he replied as he went smoothly from the `double front bicep' to the `front lat spread' to the `side chest'. When he got to the `back double bicep' pose I called him back. "Back up" I said. "Do that side chest again." "Yes, master" he said as he performed it again. "Come on, you can do better than that" I barked at him. "Stick out that chest. Squeeze those arms. Show me those muscles." He flexed a little trying to improve the pose. "I know you ain't pumped, we'll get to that later, but you can do better than that. Stick out that damn chest. If I have to get up there and show you, you're not going to like it." "Yes, master" he grunted. Now he really put on the effort and forced he chest out even more and got a little extra bulge in his bicep. "We'll practice this later" I growled at him. "Now, give me the rest." He then went through the standard seven compulsories several times while I criticized. If he wasn't sore already from my activities yesterday, he was going to be a lot sorer today because, beginning this morning, he was going on a very strenuous weightlifting program. Yeah, he had a nice body already, but the bigger and more muscular he was, the more I was going to enjoy dominating and fucking him. I mean, it's just common sense that it's more of a challenge and therefore more entertaining to control a big muscle guy that it was some skinny little pip squeak. The bigger the better. So, we had breakfast, worked out for a couple hours and showered, so it was late morning before I was able to get him back on my dick again. Luckily Louis had been out on bail before entering prison, so he'd been working out regularly. Otherwise, after what I put him through in the weight room, he wouldn't have been able to move. After showering I dressed Louis up in snug little black cut offs and a torn wife beater that barely covered his tits, as well as a two-inch-wide black leather slave collar. If I could have got away with it, he would have been wearing little more than the slave collar, but they required us to wear something on top and something on the bottom during the day. Hey, I owned him, and he was my boy-toy from now on, so I'd dress him any way I damn well pleased. Besides, I didn't mind showing him off, so I wanted him looking sexy and desirable for me all the time. It also humiliated him to no end that I forced him to dress this way, making him look like a whore. Those cute little black cutoffs fit him like a second skin and emphasized the prettiest little ass you've ever seen. I made him parade around in front of me trying to look sexy to get my hormones stirred up. Hey, he's my slave; humiliation is good for him and if I want him to stand on his head, he'll fuckin well stand on his head. Of course, he had to wear the coveralls when he left the cell, but I made him remove them the instant he returned. I told Carl to stop by after our workout, but I didn't expect Cramer to come with him. I mean this overweight hunk of meat tried to pretend he was a master, but he didn't know shit about it. He thought being big made him a master, but if he thought he was going to get even one seconds worth of respect from Carl, after Carl had been with me for months, he was totally out of his mind. Besides, his previous cellmate, Alex, had been a real hellion and totally uncooperative and Cramer never had been able to get him under control. "What the fuck do you want?" I asked Cramer. "This is my boy now, so I came along to keep my eye on him" he answered. "He ain't your boy until I decide he's your boy, so get the fuck out of here." "Hey, Davon..." he started to say. "You get your fat ass out of here right now" I said and took a step towards him. He wanted to put on a good face for Carl, but nobody, I mean nobody fucks with Davon, so he scurried out of the cell. "Louis. Here" I barked. Louis and Carl had been standing outside the cell in the hall, but Louis now jumped at my command and almost dove over to me and got on his knees. "Yes, master" he said. "Carl" I barked. "Yes, sir" he said and immediately joined Louis on his knees in front of me. I couldn't help but grin and admire these two attractive young men at my feet, both with tight little muscled bodies and both of them my slaves. It was too bad they didn't allow me two cell mates, but then again, maybe that was something I'd have to look into. "Let's stop with the `master' bullshit, Louis. Just say `yes, sir'." "Yes, sir" Louis answered. "Get it out, Carl" I said. Carl reached forward and started undoing my pants. "No. Get my shoes off first." He dully removed my shoes and socks. "My pants" I said. He pulled my pants down and off. "Hey! Two pretty slave boys" I said giving them a big grin. "Come to mama." Putting a hand behind each boy's head I pulled them into my crotch. "Just sniff" I ordered. "Get a whiff of your master's crotch. Get in there and savor the smell of your master's prick." "Yes, master. Yes, Sir" they answered. I gave Louis a knock to the head as a reminder, and he immediately replied: "yes, sir." My prick was soft but wouldn't stay that way very long with two pretty faces, one on each side, pressing their noses against it. One black, actually light brown, the other white; too white for my taste, but both incredibly attractive. Carl was making loud sniffing noises, and Louis got the idea and started doing it as well. "Okay, slave boys, now kiss" I ordered. "Lots of kisses. Worship your master's prick." And away they went, and away went my prick as well, stretching up and up and up until the head peaked out above the band of my shorts. Again, Carl, knowing exactly what I wanted, started making loud wet smacking kisses, and then Louis followed suit. I love hearing as well as feeling a slave's kisses when he's working my body; it's music to my ears. My prick grew to its full ten inches with at least two of those inches sticking out above the waistband of my underwear. "Take `em down" I said. "No hands." Again, Louis was a little slow on the uptake, but Carl immediately grabbed the band of my underwear on his side with his teeth and started pulling down. Then he had to wait a moment while Louis figured it out and caught up with him. But actually, it was only a few seconds before they pulled my shorts down to my feet with their teeth, and I stepped out of them. "Worship while you're down there" I ordered. "Worship your master's feet." Carl immediately started kissing and licking my feet, but Louis was only a few seconds behind. "Lick `em slave boys. Get those tongues working." I was rather impressed that Louis was doing so well. Of course, I'd terrorized him yesterday, but quite often a slave in training will lose some of the fear overnight and will need a refresher course. Of course, having Carl there and being able to imitate him made it easier. "Carl, my new boy here doesn't know how to suck cock. Show him." Carl rose up and put his hands behind his back and gave the base of my prick a kiss. My prick was like a steel rod now and pointing almost straight up and since Carl was such a little guy, he couldn't reach the head from where he was on his knees. Getting his chin between my cock and my belly, he worked his way out to the tip trying to get his mouth around it. Louis and I were both watching closely as he struggled and lost it twice but finally got his lips around the bulbous head on the third try. Then he swallowed it. All ten inches. He simply leaned forward forcing the damn near seven inch around, ten inch or so monster deep into his throat, and kept going until his nose was jammed into my crotch. "Ohhh.... shit" I groaned in pleasure as Carl just held himself there and swallowed a couple times, giving me incredible feelings of delight. And he just stayed there, swallowing occasionally, for thirty seconds, and then almost a minute before he finally pulled back. Then taking one and only one deep breath, he did it again, jamming himself all the way into my crotch hairs and holding it and holding it and holding it. Each time he swallowed, it sent signals of sheer euphoria throughout my body. Of course, he was just showing off for Louis; he'd never done it quite this well before on a first try. But the pleasure was intense, literally overwhelming, and I realized I had to be careful. Yes, I had amazing control, but even for me, it was possible to get just too, too hot. And besides, you must be careful with a slave and not give him too much credit because it can go to his head. He may begin to think his satisfaction from servicing me is his primary function instead of total dedication to my needs. If there is anything you don't need in a slave, it's a swelled head. "Alright, Carl" I said, and he pulled back, looked up at me and gave me a big smile. "Smart aleck" I said as I smiled back and rubbed my hand over his face. He kissed my hand a couple times and then sucked as I stuck a couple fingers in his mouth. What a slave! Carl was simply perfect. I was happy Louis was watching this, because it would give him a great lesson in what I would be expecting from him. "Get on it, Louis" I ordered. "Please Mas.... Ahhh... sir. I can't do that." "Try" I said. "Carl, help him." I didn't object as Carl used his hands and pulled my swollen dick down to a level even with Louis' mouth. He didn't say anything but just pushed Louis forward forcing him to open wide to take my dick. Then he started whispering something in Louis' ear, evidently encouraging him or something, while he continued pushing on the back of his head. I just watched in fascination as I felt my dick hit the back of Louis' throat. He didn't gag this time, but he seemed to be trying to gasp for breath around my big dick and was having trouble doing it. Obviously, he hadn't learned to take a deep breath first. Carl allowed him to come almost completely off my dick and then started pushing him back. This time Louis took an enormous breath in preparation. And then I felt my dick sink at least an inch or two into Louis' throat; not quite up to Carl's standards, but it felt damn good. He still had a couple inches of cock left, but practice makes perfect and this was a pretty good start and Louis was going to get a lot of practice. As Carl let him pull his head back, I saw that his face was red. He was gasping and coughing but Carl gave him only a few seconds to recover before pushing his face back into my crotch again. He didn't go any deeper this time, but my enormous dong did enter his throat once more. And Louis' throat was really tight and was squeezing the hell out of me and it felt wonderful. I let Carl push Louis in deep two more times before I let him stop. Louis' face was really red, but he was also gasping and choking with snot coming from his nose. Given time he'd learn but he wasn't there yet. "Let's show him how you give a blowjob, Carl" I said, and Carl immediately sucked my cock into his mouth and started working on it like only a totally trained cocksucker like him can do. Carl was being really aggressive which pissed me off a little, but I knew he was still showing off for Louis. But since he was not going to be my regular cocksucker anymore, I let him get away with it. But I took control. Under no circumstances was I going to let a slave be in charge of the action, particularly since I was training Louis to be completely submissive. Grabbing Carl's hair with one hand and his jaw with the other, I twisted his head sideways and rammed my cock in all the way. Then I pushed him to the floor on his back, got down on my knees above his head, put both hands around his neck, and rammed all ten inches in again, deep into his throat. Holding his head back at just the right angle, I pushed into him, forcing my balls up tight against his nose and upper lip. I could see his Adams apple bulge and could feel his neck expand as my bludgeon forced its way into him. Let me tell you, I love fucking a guy's face, particularly a guy like Carl who could pretty much handle it. Of course, he'd be sore for a few days, but it was worth it because it left me one hundred percent in charge of the action. I don't want my slaves thinking their giving me something; as if they are giving me a blowjob. He ain't giving, I'm taking. When I'm fucking his face, I'm in control and he just holds on for dear life while I use his throat for my pleasure. That's how a real master uses a slave. I knew that Carl, even as experienced as he was, couldn't take a whole lot of this, so I just let myself get hotter and hotter with the euphoria of the fuck. I was already hot so as I shoved my rod into his throat again and again, it was only a minute or so before I felt the surge of my erection. "Louis. Here" I shouted, as I pulled my cock completely out of Carl's mouth. "Huh?" Louis said, but I stretched over, got a handful of his hair and jerked him hard down to my crotch, getting a screech out of him. Holding his face there and literally sitting on Carl's face I started to shoot my jism. Louis had his eyes tightly closed as I fired burst after burst into his face. There was no way I could bend my rock-hard missile down to point at Carl, but some of my cum was dripping down on him from Louis' face and my last couple shots dribbled down on his chin. "Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man" I whispered in exhilaration as I began to calm down from an amazing ejaculation. Carl was fabulous and no question, I was going to miss him. Louis was lying right on top of Carl where he landed when I jerked him over to my cock, but he started to get up as I got back to my feet. Putting my hand on his shoulder, I pushed him back to his knees. "Up, Carl" I said, and Carl got to his knees as well. Stepping forward and taking each of them by the hair, I pulled their two mouths into my prick. "Clean it" I said, and they both stuck out their tongues and started licking up and down my still very hard rod. "Suck on it and enjoy it, slave boys" I said. "Get it clean." Sliding their tongues and lips up and down my big rod they cleaned up every remaining bit of cum. Again, I was impressed with how well Louis was doing; he was attentive and really paying attention to what he was doing, and I was beginning to suspect that he may have been enjoying it. Still holding them by the hair, I stepped back and pushed their faces together. "Lick, babies" I said. "Lick up your master's cum. Get every last bit of it." They started licking each other's faces. Most of my cum was on Louis' face and I knew Carl was enjoying licking it off, and although I could be wrong here, I swear Louis was really getting into it as well. Okay, so it's a little early to tell, but Louis was really working at it now, and I was beginning to think that he was going to be one of the few that was not only an obedient slave but was going to learn to love it. As you can suspect as a red blooded African-American muscle boy, I can cum five/six or who knows how many more times a day without a problem, so after Carl left, I put Louis under the little table and had him give me a slow suck while I handled my phone calls. No coercion, no objections, no questioning, no nothing. He simply did what he was told, latched onto my cock and sucked. In fact, since I really didn't want to cum right now but just wanted a long slow suck job, I actually had to hold him back from sucking with too much enthusiasm. No doubt about it. Louis was going to be a terrific boy-toy. Please remember to support Nifty.com with your donations. Comments appreciated, ddcolwell@live.com gladiatorkid@hotmail.com

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Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2024 13:07:00 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud, Chapter 9 This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black muscleman with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with consensual and nonconsensual sex. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter Nine Okay, so I was beginning to get settled into this damn prison in Hagerstown. Already, after barely a month I was pretty much the top dog, at least in this section of the prison. I'd taken Leeshawn's two stooges and slapped them around until they saw it was in their best interest to kiss my ass. They were both simple thugs and I didn't want them, but it was better if I kept them close so they couldn't get into mischief elsewhere. All the prisoners now gave me space since the word was around that I was Boss of the `Black Guerrilla Family' on the outside, and whipping Leeshawn's ass didn't hurt my reputation inside. A lot of them actually stepped back in respect when I walked by. Not bad for the first month, heh? "So, Oman, you're a big, good-looking hunk with the muscle to take most anything you want but you don't have a fuck boy. Hell, you could take Jasen's Otto away from him in a minute if you wanted" I said as Omar and Jasen and I were sitting around a table in the recreation room. "Don't give him ideas, Boss" Jasen said, and we all laughed. Jasen and Omar turned out to be good loyal `Family' members and I depended on them to watch my back. They were both big muscular studs, but that's all relative when you see them together. Jasen was 5'10" and may have weighed one eighty, one ninety, but Omar was 6'1" and was bigger in every dimension, probably weighing upwards of two-fifty. "So, tell me, Omar. Why don't you have a boy?" I asked. "I mean, you don't need to love them. Just something to stick your dick into. Something to get your rocks off with." "Well, this is prison, Boss, in case you hadn't noticed" Omar said with a laugh. "Most guys don't have boytoys." "It's all in the muscle, Omar" I said. "The muscle and the connections. You've had the muscle all along and could have had pretty much anybody you wanted. Even more so now that I'm getting established, you can have whoever you want." "Well, I'm kinda used to my right hand now, Boss" he said. "I got a couple blow jobs a while back but decided that I liked my hand better. My own roomie gives out, but I ain't partial to a fifty-year-old fat guy blowing me." "I offered to let him use my Otto and he's totally fuckable" Jasen said, "but he wouldn't take me up on it." "Really?" I said, giving Omar a questioning look. He looked back at me, shrugging his shoulders and gave me a `what-the-fuck' look. And I got a flash of a glimmer of a possibility of a hint of an idea. "I don't know, Boss" Omar said. "It just didn't seem right." "Come with me, Omar" I said as I got up. "You and me gotta have a talk. Jasen, we'll see you later." I led Omar out of the rec center and back to my cell. "What's up, Boss" he said as we sat down on my bunk. "This is what's up" I said as I took his hand and pressed it to my crotch. "Ah, Boss" he said, startled. He tried to pull his hand back, but I held on to it. "I know what you want, Omar" I said softly. "And I know what you need." "Ahhh... I don't know, Boss" he said, his voice quivering. "You need Davon's dick, Omar" I said. "Now play with it." I let go of his hand and he pulled it away. "I said play with it, Omar" I repeated. "Get a good feel of Davon White's big dick." It took a moment, but then he hesitantly put his hand back. "That's it. Get a good feel of this motherfuckin dick. Ain't another one around like it." "I don't know about this, Boss" he said but he didn't stop groping me as my prick started to grow. "I do" I said. "I know what you need, and I'm going to give it to you. You gonna get Davon's big meat injection" I said with a chuckle. "Ahhh..." he started to say. "Don't say anything more, Omar" I said. "You know damn well everybody want's my dick, but you're special because you're part of the `family' so I'm giving it to you. And let me tell you, once you get some of this dick, you ain't never gonna be able to get enough." I pushed his hand away from what was now an enormous bulge in my pants and stood up. "I make my phone call at 2:30 and Fred will be acting as my lookout. Be here at 2:30." "Ahhh... Boss, please" he said softly. "Omar, listen" I said. "I promise it'll be good. You know how many members of the `family' have had my dick?" "Ahhh... lots" he said. "Yeah, lots. And I make it special for the `family' and I guarantee you're going to love it." Pulling him to his feet I gave him a soft kiss to the lips. "I promise" I said. So, I had my first fuck since I'd been in prison, except, of course, for Ezekiel, which didn't count. Omar was a very handsome stud and all muscle and turned out to be a decent fuck. He shot his load even before I did without even touching himself and was very loving after we were done. I fucked him twice and then had to force him to let go of my cock and get dressed when our time was up. I wasn't as rough as I like to be, but at least I got my rocks off. And so did he. ----------- At the next meeting with Dr. Taylor, Ezekiel that is, I entered the room and sat at the table. He still couldn't look at me, but I could tell he was nervous, so I knew exactly what he was feeling. He was terrified of me, but subconsciously, he also wanted me. He wanted me to take him again, to dominate him. And like most people when sexual desire gets in the way, his urges were more powerful than his common sense. Without saying a word, I smiled at him and patted the table next to me, indicating that he should come around next to me. "Mr. White, ahhh..." "Shhhh" I whispered shushing him. "Shhhh." "Mr. White, please..." he started again, but once more I shushed him. "Shhhh" I whispered. "Shhhh." Once again, I patted the table next to me, giving him a big smile. He kept glancing up from his papers looking at my hand as I patted the table, but he couldn't look at me. "Davon..." he said, and I saw a tear appear in his eye. "Right here, hon" I whispered so he could barely hear me as I patted the table. "Right here." For another minute or so he just stared at the papers in front of him and then, very slowly, he got up, picked up his chair, and carried it around the table and set it next to me. He was visibly shaking as he sat down next to me. Standing up, I shrugged out of the coveralls and stepped out of them. As I sat back down, I took his hand and put in on the very impressive lump in my underwear. "Get me hard, honey" I said. "Davon, please" he said. "I'm the psychologist and we've..." "Shhh" I said again. "Don't talk, hon. You know what we're going to do here, so let's just do it." I held my hand on his, forcing him to hold my prick as it started to grow. "Davon, listen, listen, listen" he said as he tried to pull his hand away. "Don't talk, Zeek" I said more firmly. "I swear I'm gonna have to tape your mouth. At least until I'm ready to use it for something else." "No Davon, you've got to listen first" he said, sounding desperate. "We've got to..." "I'll listen later, honey. Right now, I've got better things to do." "No, Davon. Stop..." "Will you shut up for god's sake? Just get me hard." "You've got to listen to me, Davon" he said. "Oh shit" I said in disgust. Standing up, I pulled my bikini underwear down and off, grabbed him by the chin with one hand, pushed his head back, and stuffed the underwear in his mouth. Then sitting back down I jerked him off his chair onto his knees. Pulling one hand behind his back and holding it there I put his other hand back on my prick. His eyes got huge in shock at what I was doing. It was fucking laughable that he actually thought he could reason with me and take back control of the meeting. I couldn't believe he was that stupid. But right now, five minutes after I arrived, he was finding out who was in charge and who was going to be calling the shots. "Play with my fucking dick, damn it" I growled at him. He was still trying to pull his hand back as I was holding it against my growing prick. "Play with it, god damn it." He couldn't move his hand since I was holding it there, but he wasn't doing anything with it either. So, I slugged him, knocking him over backwards and knocking the chair over. He yelled, muffled through the shorts, his eyes got even bigger, and tears started dripping down his cheeks as he looked at me in horror. Hey, I'd been sweet as sugar with him last time, but that ain't my style and I was not about to continue babying him. I owned him, and he was damn well going to understand what that meant. "Play with It" I snapped as I grabbed him by the hair and jerked him back up to his knees. He was still in shock from me hitting him, but I've got no patience with a submissive who is slow to understand that I'm in charge. "Fuckin play with it you stupid shit" I snarled at him. He was still a little groggy from me hitting him, but he was also terrified, so he started massaging it gently. "Yeah. Do it." He was trying to look away, so I let go of his hand and jerked his head around, so he had to look at it. "That's a beautiful prick, Zeek" I said. "A real beauty, and you're lucky to be able to get some of it. Now get your other hand on it.' I let go of the arm I was holding behind his back. "Two hands, babe, two hands." Hell, with ten inches of man meat there's more than enough room for two hands, or even three. "Keep your eyes on it, babe. You need to admire this stud's big black prick." He did look at it now, with tears dripping down his cheeks. "You promise to keep your mouth shut I'll take the gag out. Okay?" He shook his head yes as the tears streamed down his face. "Okay, babe" I said as I pulled my underwear out of his mouth. "Not a word and keep working on my prick." He seemed to give into the inevitable now as he kept jerking my fully hard cock. I just let him play with it for a couple minutes. "Okay, baby, kiss it and then I'm going to fuck you. Kiss it" I said as I put a hand behind his head and pulled him in. "Kiss it. Kiss my big black dick." "Davon..." he whispered. "Kiss it you son-of-a-bitch" I growled. After a momentary hesitation he gave it a kiss. No argument or objection now. "Good boy" I said with a big grin. "Good boy." Standing back and grabbing a handful of hair I pulled him to his feet. Then lifting him in my arms, I carried him to the end of the table and laid him on it on his back. Quickly unbuckling his belt and pants, I jerked them off, grabbed his legs pulling them apart, and then pulled him so his butt was at the very edge of the table. "You gonna watch me this time, babe. You gonna watch as Davon White sticks his big black dick in your sweet white boy ass." "Davon, Davon, Davon" he whispered softly. "Please, Davon." I spit on my hand a couple times and rubbed it against his crack. "Ain't got no cream today, babe, so it's gonna hurt" I said giving him a grin. "Just a little spit for lubrication so it'll be really tight for me, just the way I like it. Remember this is Davon White fucking you. You gonna find out your pain is my pleasure, baby, and I get a whole lot of pleasure from a really tight ass." Holding his legs up and almost giving him splits, I took aim and started to push. He didn't want to open up because I didn't prep hm as much as last time, but my steel ramrod didn't care, and his ass gradually began to give against my onslaught. And he started to yell. Quick as a whistle I put my hand over his mouth and pulled back. As his yell turned to soft sobbing I let go, grabbed my underwear and stuffed them back into his mouth. Spitting in my hand, I rubbed it up and down his crack and then jammed a finger in and fucked him with it. Then spitting once more, I rubbed it on my prick getting it good and wet. Lifting his legs over my shoulders and grabbing his arms I started my assault once more. Gently but with determination I started driving my big monster into him, forcing the little pucker to expand to enormous proportions to accept my dick. He was still yelling but it didn't bother me now since he was being muffled by my underwear. Today he was going to find out that I truly owned him and could do any damn thing I wanted to him. Fucking him with just spit as lubrication was just emphasizing my power and control over him and setting him up for my total domination. Hell yes, it was going to hurt, at first anyway, but I really didn't give a shit because he needed to find out that being Davon White's new fuck boy was not an easy proposition. And if I put him through some initial pain and enjoyed seeing him suffer while I was fucking him, that was just the power and mastery that I held over lackeys like him. I didn't intend to make him a slave, or even a regular fuck. I was only doing this to get him under control, to let him know who was in charge. For god's sake he was a skinny be-speckled guy of thirty-five or so and that sure as hell isn't the type of guy I like to stick my dick into. "Oh shit, Zeek, you're making my dick happy" I laughed in pleasure as the head of my big dong popped into his ass. "So fuckin tight, babe. My big dick is a perfect fit between those tight little buns of yours." I just held it there for a bit, waiting for his yelling to turn to whimpering, and then started pushing some more. I hadn't prepped him all that much, so he started yelling as I forced my way in. His ass was definitely trying to deny entry to my dick, so, yeah, forced. Didn't matter to me if his ass didn't want to open because no obstruction was going to slow down Davon White's power dick and that ass was going to open up no matter what. I knew it'd get easier as he loosened up and the spit got spread around and started rubbing against his prostate, but my greatest pleasure was right now; right now when he was super tight, those ass muscles trying to crush my dick but giving me the most incredible feelings of euphoria as I pushed in, impelling my dick into his almost impossibly tight little hole.. "Oh, shit yeah" I cried in relish as I stuffed three or four more inches into him, pretty much oblivious to the noise he was making and the pain he might be suffering. I had to keep my voice down, but it wasn't easy because the rapturous feelings from my cock were almost overwhelming. Now I started to fuck, pulling out an inch or two and then back in. It was still pretty hard going but it was finally beginning to loosen up as I plunged deeper and deeper. He was still making some noise and he was obviously crying, but that was okay by me because I was teaching him a lesson in power and supremacy. You can bet after going through the pain and the humiliation of taking my monster today he'd be the most servile, the most devoted, and the most groveling son-of-a-bitch on the planet. This was not going to be as long drawn-out fuck today, so I kept banging into him until I finally had all ten inches crammed in. He was whimpering and twisting his body and shaking his head back and forth, so it must have been hurting as I started really slamming into him. I was getting hot now and his ass was finally loosening up enough so that I was sliding in and out with ease. I figured his pain was about to turn to pleasure. It's amazing what a tight ass will do for me, because I was on the verge of cuming already and I hadn't been at it for even fifteen minutes yet. But rather than slowing down and extending the pleasure, I speeded up the action to reach my peak. After all, I was doing this more to get Zeek in the right frame of mind and to teach him what it meant to belong to me, rather than just for my own pleasure. I mean, there ain't nothing wrong with enjoying it if I can, but you don't think I deliberately fuck just any be-speckled forty-year-old nerd, do you? I mean, I have eighteen-year-old pretty boys begging for action, so what I'm doing here is almost a chore. Letting go of his arms and grabbing his shoulders, I rammed into him half a dozen times and started shooting. "Oh fuuuccck" I moaned as I fired my first shot into him. Then, leaning over him, pushing his legs further in the air and yanking on his shoulders I slammed into him one final time as I continued shooting my cum deep into his ass. "Oh fuuuccck" I said again as I fired the final couple bursts into him. Skinny runt or not, his ass was the tightest little hole I'd had in .... in .... in almost a day. Then, finally it was done, and I slowly began to get my breath back and calm down. I realized I was lying on top of him dripping my sweat onto him and almost crushing him under my massive body, so I lifted up and let go of his shoulders. "Oh, baby, that was good" I said, grinning at him. He had a look of total horror on his face and the tears were dripping down his cheeks more than ever. "Real good" I said as I gave him a couple love taps to the cheek. "It's all over, babe" I said as I pulled my shorts out of his mouth. He gasped a couple times and then started whimpering as I very slowly began to pull my big dick out of him. I watched with pleasure as my big, sated dong slipped slowly, inch by inch out of his lily-white butt, and just as I figured, there was no blood. Hey, putting a guy through a little discomfort while I'm getting my jollies is predictable, and it's fun, but tearing him up is not my thing. As I stepped back, I let his legs down and then pulled him off the table onto his feet. He was wobbly at first, so I held him for a moment before pushing him to his knees. I tossed his glasses onto the table and as I grabbed my dick with one hand and his hair with the other, I rubbed it all over his face, smearing my slimy skum and his ass juice on his cheeks, his nose, and pretty much all over his face. "That's my cum, babe. Davon White is anointing you with his semen. That's an honor," I said with a laugh. "Ain't just anybody gets my cum smeared on their face." Pulling his head back so he had to look up at me, I couldn't help but continue laughing as I gave him a big smile. "A real honor, babe." Ezekiel just sat there whimpering softly as I held his chin forcing him to look up. And what a vision he had. My dong was still sticking out, almost touching his nose, and I was glistening with a layer of sweat covering my incredible body. Since I was still breathing hard, my rock-hard abdominals were forming and reforming sharp ridges of muscle, and the movement in and out of my massive chest and magnificent bulging pectorals were a sight for him to behold. Of course, he didn't appreciate it, but he was looking up at a phenomenon, a demigod. And forced to look up into my eyes, he saw an exquisitely handsome light skinned African/American hunk with an enormous smile on his face. Hell, I almost envied him being allowed to serve and worship and lust over me, a perfect god. I'd worship me in a minute if I was in his shoes. "That was hot, honey. Hot ass for Davon's prick" I said, laughing in his face. "I know it hurt a little, babe, but that's what it takes to be Davon's fuck boy. You gotta take what Davon gives you." "Ahhh... Davon..." he started to say. "It won't hurt as much next time, hon. I promise" I said. "But you do want this dick again, don't you? You want Davon's big dick up your ass once more. Don't you?" "Ahhh,.. I... I... Davon..." he whimpered "Go on, say it" I grinned at him. "Tell me you want this big black stud to dominate you and stick his big pecker back up your ass. Say it." "Davon... I... I can't... I don't..." he whimpered. "Shit, yes, you want it again. I know that. Little man like you, you gotta love being studded by a hunk like me" I said, still grinning brightly. "Next week you bring some nice greasy hand crème along with you and this big boner will slide in so smooth you'll think you're in heaven." "Please, Davon" he said, evidently beginning to recover from the fuck. "I can't..." "Probably better you don't tell nobody" I said, completely ignoring him as I got into my coveralls. "I know there's guys out there brag about how they were able to take my dick. Yeah, really. They brag about it" I laughed. "But maybe we should just keep this between ourselves. I don't know, you might be embarrassed or something." Pulling him to his feet, I gave him a long hard kiss, the first one today. "Mmmm" he murmured as I tried to stick my tongue down his throat. "Mmmmm." "You gave my dick a real good time, hon. See you next Tuesday." I gave him a friendly slap on the ass and walked out. ------------------- So, I now owned Ezekiel, the psychologist and four of the guards were on my payroll. Actually, five now, or almost five. I mean, I'd been sweet talking this other guard, a great big, gorgeous hunk of muscle named Bradford, not Brad but Bradford, who reminded me of Craig at `Baltimore City'. Craig was white and Bradford was black but they both had enormous bodies that were to die for. Craig had been a completive bodybuilder, had been totally enamored by my big dick, and had been a great fuck. And while Bradford seemed to be a body beautiful type as well, it looked like he had one healthy piece of meat down there where it counted, unlike Craig who only had about five inches. He was so fucking hot that I was going to bust my balls trying to get it on with him, but he was obviously going to be a tougher nut to crack that Craig was. The best thing about Bradford was that he was a guard in the `young men's' wing so he might be able to get me some kind of access. And besides, it was clear from the sly comments he made and the twinkle in his eye when we talked about those kids, that he was fucking some of them. With the body and looks of a Hercules there was no doubt those boys were lining up for him, looking for action. "What do you mean they're all teases?" I asked him one day. "Well they're just kids, Davon, and you know how horny kids can be." "Well, yeah, sure" I said. "But they make a play for you?" "Oh, hell, they tease the female guards as well, but look at me. I'm the hottest stud in the valley and as butch as they come. You wouldn't believe the way they wiggle their cute little butt's when I come by" he laughed. "And I play along. I'll sometimes reach through the bars and give their little butts a squeeze and a slap, and maybe stick a finger up their crack. But then I remind them I'm the guard." "Yeah, a guard with benefits, I'll bet" I said laughing along with him. He just laughed but he didn't deny it, and I figured he was helping himself to some of those benefits. "What do you know about that kid, Angel?" `You've noticed him hey? He's a pretty one, but he's one tough son-of-a-bitch, a real nasty motherfucker. He told us his name was Butch, but the paperwork said Angel. But he also told us he was twenty-four but it's obvious he's barely eighteen. He's a total liar and we're having trouble getting him a cellmate because nobody can stand to be with him. And he kicks the shit out of anybody smaller than him." "Maybe he needs a mentor?" I said sweetly. "Probably just needs some discipline." "You offering?" he said with a grin. "Hell, yes" I said. "I've straightened out a lot of kids with really bad attitudes. Hell, that's my specialty." "I'll take that under advisement" he laughed as he started walking away. "Wait a minute, Bradford. What do you mean `under advisement'?" He laughed and turned back. "You must read minds, Davon" he laughed. "The Deputy Warden told me to take charge and straighten that kid out and I've been working at it. I mean, I could break him in half with one hand, but as a guard, I don't dare touch him, or hardly anyway. I've explained to him that he's in that `youth wing' for his own protection, but he's so ornery that he thinks he can take on the whole world." "Well, I ain't a guard so I can touch him. Oh yeah, I can touch him" I said with a grin. Vince grinned right along with me. "You want to give it a try?" "You mean that?" I asked with surprise. Getting the most beautiful kid in the prison in my clutches couldn't possibly be this easy. "You want me to straighten him out?" "If you're willing, we might consider it. In fact, I might hold on to the little son-of-a-bitch while you work him over. I'm fed up with him." "I'll bet you want to hold him down, hot kid like that. I'll bet you do" I laughed. "But, hey, I've handled dozens like him, so I won't need any help" I laughed. "But if I straighten him out, he belongs to me. You gotta let me keep him." "So that's your game" Bradford grinned at me. "Hell, I got no problem with that, but I doubt the powers-that-be would go for it. I'll check it out." "Hey, I ain't selfish" I said. "I'm willing to share." "I'll keep that in mind" he said with a sly grin. Oh yeah, I'd like to share, I thought to myself. I've got something between my legs I'd like to share. "So, set it up" I said. "I'm ready." ----------- It wasn't going to help Ezekiel any that I came to my next appointment in a lousy mood. I'd talked to Bradford a couple times, but he didn't seem to be doing anything about that Angel kid, and I was royally pissed about not having a fuck boy. This was the longest time since I was a kid that I didn't have a fuck boy of my own, almost three months now. When I get this ornery, people who know me get out of the way because I can be a loose cannon. "What are you doing over there?" I growled at Ezekiel as I shut the door of the counseling room. "Put those damn papers away." Ezekiel was sitting behind the table with the papers spread in front of him pretending that this was going to be just another counseling session. "And move that fucking chair around to this side of the table." "Mr. White..." "Shut the fuck up and do what you're told" I snapped. I just stood there with my arms folded over my massive chest frowning at him. And damned if tears didn't appear in his eyes again. The guy was humiliated that I had this power over him, but he simply didn't know what he could do about it. He didn't know how to deal with my aggressive behavior. He sniffled a couple times as he stacked the papers and put them back in the folder. Ezekiel glanced up at me and saw that I was just standing there glaring at him, so he stood up and carried his chair around to my side of the table. Then he just stood there looking at the floor. What a fucking gutless piece of shit. And the asshole still couldn't look at me. "Take those nerdy goddamn glasses off and get over here" I growled. He hesitantly put his glasses down and walked over to me, his eyes focused on the middle of my chest. "Remove my shoes" I ordered him. With only the slightest hesitation, he got down on his knees and removed my shoes. "Now these coveralls" I said as I pushed them off my shoulders allowing them to fall to my waist. Ezekiel tugged them down over my massive thighs and I stepped out of them. "Now my bikini" I said. "Get my prick out in the air." Then he looked up at me, but only for a second, and then grabbed my white bikinis and pulled them down and off. "You can look at it" I said, but he continued looking down at the floor. "I said look at it, you little fuck" I growled. He raised his face, startled at my command, and looked at my almost fully hard dick. Humiliating a guy like this is hot, so of course I was almost hard. "Tell me this black dick is beautiful" I ordered. "Tell me." "Ahhh... Davon... Please" he said softly, and I heard a catch in his throat; he was on the verge of crying. I slapped him, knocking his head to the side. "Tell me this dick is beautiful" I repeated glaring down at him. Hey, I don't necessarily think I'm a monster, but when I'm in a bad mood like this, watch out. Besides, I needed a fuck and I needed some entertainment, and this kind of shit really turns me on. I mean, kicking the crap out of some immature little punk and forcing him to service me is one thing. But getting a educated guy like Ezekiel completely under my control, totally subservient and obedient to my every whim without kicking his ass; now that is really hot. "Speak up, damn it" I growled. "Davon..." he cried. "You've got five seconds" I snarled "and then I'm going to tear you a new ass hole." "Okay, okay" he responded. "It's beautiful, Davon. Your cock is beautiful." "Better" I said. "Now get your fucking clothes off. Strip. I'm ready to fuck." It seemed to have finally sunk into him that he had no choice but to submit to my demands. He had hoped for some compassion from me but now realized he was not going to get it. Without a word he went back to the table, sat down and removed his shoes and socks, his shirt and tie and his trousers. "Leave the underwear on" I said. "I don't want to have to look at that shriveled up white worm of yours." Now, for the first time, I moved away from the door and walked over to him. Grabbing a handful of hair, I jerked his head to the side, and grabbing his chin with the other hand I yanked him up on his tiptoes, just inches from my face. "Do we have an understanding here now Zeek? Yes?" "Yes" he croaked, total terror showing in his face. "Sir" I said. His eyes got even wider as he said "Yes, sir." "Put that tie back around your neck" I ordered as I let him loose. "Give me something to hold on to when I fuck you." "Davon, please" he sobbed as he picked up the tie. "You speak again without my permission you're going to end up short a couple teeth" I growled as I slapped him. His face jerked to the right from the slap, so I grabbed his hair again and pulled him back up into my face. "Got that you little shit" I growled. "Shake your fuckin head, yes." He shook his head yes. "You bring that cream with you?" I asked. He nodded his head. "Well, you'd better get it out damn quick because I ain't going to wait." He went over to his briefcase and pulled out a tube of cream, but looked back, not quite knowing what to do with it. "Stick some up your ass, you dumb shit, and then get over here and grease up my prick." And what an imbecile. He was standing there thinking about it because he was embarrassed about greasing up his ass in front of me, when he knew I was going to be fucking him any minute now. "You got about fifteen seconds and then this prick is going up your chute dry. Get with it." Now he seemed to come to his senses as he squeezed out some crème and bending over, reached back, sticking his hand inside his underwear and gingerly rubbed it into his crack. "You'd better practice this at home before next time, or this big prick of mine is going to tear you up" I said. Grabbing him by the neck and pushing his head down, forcing him to bend over, I gave him a hefty slap to the ass. Grabbing his underwear, I ripped them apart baring his butt. Taking the cream from him, I squeezed out a big glob and rubbed it into his crack. Then sticking a finger in, I finger fucked him a couple times, not trying to be gentle. Then jerking him up with my hold on his neck, I pushed that finger into his mouth. "You got your god damn cream on my finger" I snapped at him. "Clean it off." He did what he was told. "Now go get my fucking underwear" I ordered him as I let go of his neck. He went over to the door, got them and brought them back. "Put them in your mouth." He looked at me with such a sorrowful look on his face that if I had been in the mood, it would have been almost funny, but he was way, way past any defiance at this point, so he stuffed them in his mouth as ordered. He was sobbing aloud now but muffled by my bikini. "Get my dick ready" I said as I handed him the cream. He took the tube and looked up at me, as if to ask: what next? I slapped him again and watched his eyes get big as I grabbed his hair and pushed him down to his knees. "Grease it up you little fuck" I growled. He continued to sob, and the tears continued dripping but he did what he was told, squeezing some cream onto his hand and rubbing it up and down my rock-hard dick. "Tell me it's beautiful" I said as I pulled my bikini out of his mouth and grabbed his hair. "It's beautiful" he cried, sobbing softly. "Tell me it's gorgeous" I growled at him giving his hair a jerk. "It's gorgeous, Davon" he cried. "Tell me you love Davon's big nigger dick" I ordered giving his hair another jerk. "Ahhh... Davon..." he mumbled. "Say it the way I said it" I growled at him giving his hair another jerk. "I... I... I love your nigger dick, Davon" he said, crying even more now. I was actually beginning to cool down from my intense anger. Of course, it wasn't his fault that I was in such a bad mood. So, for just a moment, I took a deep breath and stopped what I was doing. But, angry or not, I was doing what I love doing, totally controlling and humiliating another human being in preparation for some hot cock action. I mean, next to kicking the shit out of some uppity teenager, my favorite sport was subjugating some lily-livered wimp and preparing a hole for my cock. Having a cringing little ass-wipe, a white ass-wipe, on his knees at my feet almost begging me to hurt him was like an elixir to me. Total power, baby. Holding his hair with one hand and my dick with the other I rubbed the tip against his lips. "Kiss it Zeek" I said. "Kiss that beautiful dick. Just the tip. Kiss it." Of course, he did what he was told. "Do it again and let me hear it. Nice big wet kiss." Following instructions, he gave it a big smack. "Good boy. My dick likes that. Now thank me." He gave me a questioning look but didn't even blink. "Thank you, Davon." Pulling up on his hair forcing him to his feet, I lifted him up in my arms and carried him to the end of the table and put him down on his back. "Put this back in your mouth" I ordered him as I handed him my underwear. He was still weeping as he stuffed it in, but at least it was muffled. Putting his legs on my shoulders and taking aim with my big prick, I pushed. He was greased up and my pole was greased up, but I hadn't really prepped his hole much, so I had to give a hefty shove to get my gargantuan prick in there. His eyes got big and I think he may have been howling but I loved the feeling as I pushed my way in. Shit, I loved a tight ass, even on skinny old guys. I gave a good shove and forced all ten inches deep into his butt. I just held it there for a bit just barely moving, enjoying the feeling of my balls jammed up tight against his cheeks. "Oh, baby" I said. "The third time is magic. Your ass is still pretty damn tight." Then I pulled completely out of him, took aim again, and slammed all ten inches into him in one shot. "Oh fuck" I moaned in pleasure. Putting one big paw around his neck, I pulled him up off the table so he was impaled on my steel hard dick and his legs were sticking straight up. "I'm going to remove my bikini, baby" I said. "You hear me?" I said giving his whole body a violent jerk as I put an arm around him, holding him tight against me. "You hear me?" Still crying, tears streaming down his face, mostly just in shock, he nodded his head. I jerked the underwear out of his mouth. "Put your arms around me, baby. Give your muscle master a big hug." He obeyed and put his arms around me. He was so much shorter than me that even impaled on my dick as he was, his head barely reached above my chin. I pulled his face into my chest. "Kiss my chest, baby. Worship those big pecs while I fuck you." With one arm around him and the other holding his neck and bending my knees slightly, I pulled half a dozen inches of my dick out of his ass and slowly pushed it back in. "Don't make me mad now, baby. I told you to kiss my chest." As I stepped away from the table, he started to kiss my bulging pecs. "That's it, baby" I laughed in elation. "Now slobber on `em, kiss `em, worship those big slabs of muscle." I started walking around the room with him riding on my steel dick, sometimes pulling my dick out and pushing back in, and other times lifting him up and allowing him to slide back down, his ass swallowing my dick with ease as he hugged me and continued kissing and licking my muscled chest. I was completely calmed down now. It's amazing what a little dick action in a tight hole will do to calm a violent temper. I no longer wanted to just hurt him, I now wanted this feeling of total omnipotence and power and complete superiority over him to continue endlessly. I mean, as far as I was concerned, Ezekiel's sole purpose of being on this planet was leading up to this day and this hour so he could give Davon White's hot prick some of the most exquisite pleasure he'd had all day. But all good things must come to an end, so I dropped him back on the table, slammed it to him only twice, and started spewing my hot juice into his ass. "Ohhh shit, baby" I moaned as I fired shot after shot "you are good." Skinny old nerd or no, he'd given me what I needed, some hot cock action to calm me down and get my libido back in sink. This was rather a memorable event for me because I discovered something about myself; that lack of sex really stressed me out, but a good fuck could snap me right back onto an even keel. And I knew it was not just a fuck, but a rape that did it for me. Dominating and abusing a guy while I'm fucking him did absolute wonders for my id. I left that room feeling one hundred percent better and whistled all the way back to my cell. Of course, you can probably guess what happened. Ezekiel resigned that very afternoon and I never saw him again. Damn shame because terrorizing a wimp like him was a nice break from the normal boring humdrum life in prison and I still had some more ideas of how he could have entertained me. But I'm very well aware that I fucked up. Since he was already under my control and had almost seemed to be warming up to me, it would have been easy to get him to run errands and stuff, and as the psychologist he would probably have been a better catch than a guard as far as deliveries were concerned. And now I didn't have an outlet for my anger anymore either. I needed to get a replacement for him right away. Yeah, a replacement. I mean, ain't no doubt I'm a fuckin God and It's my prerogative to use and exploit those around me if I want. Anybody I got in here to serve me and amuse me would be damn lucky and privileged. But where were they? I needed somebody now. Alright, so Ezekiel didn't feel privileged, but that was because I fucked up. The feeling of power when I've got one hundred percent control of another human being is electrifying, completely mind blowing. But I have to admit, that power has sometimes gotten away from me. They say; `power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely'. I'm afraid that is what happened with my domination of Ezekiel. I was so caught up in the incredible elation of that dominance that I may have let it go to my head. It wasn't necessary to treat Ezekiel like total shit the way I did, but I have to say, I had one hell of a good time doing it. Anyway, I needed a replacement for Ezekiel. -------------- "Damn it, Bradford" I said in disgust, "it's been what, three weeks? What's happening with that Angel kid?" "The little shit is even worse. We're keeping him in solitary most of the time. But even so, Davon, it ain't gonna happen" Bradford said. "We can't bring him in here and you can't go in where he is. The Deputy was pretty much okay on the idea originally, but I'm afraid you'll just have to forget it." I wanted to scream. My dick had been hard for weeks now just thinking about that kid. "Shit, Bradford" I said in desperation. "There's got to be a way. How about the gym, or maybe the equipment room?" "Not possible, Davon" he answered. "You know we're in there every day." "How about the storeroom then? You're only in there when we're planning a boxing match or a wrestling match?" "Sorry, Davon, but that room is full. The wrestling mats and all the boxing equipment takes up a lot of space." "How about moving that stuff out, just for two days. I can assure you it'll only take two days." "The Deputy would never go for it, Davon" he said. "I know he wouldn't." "Don't tell him then" I said. "What he don't know ain't gonna hurt him. If he finds out, you just tell him this was the best option to straighten the kid out. Come on, Bradford, you gotta do this." "Well, maybe we can do that. Let me think on it. I'll check it out and let you know." "Okay" I answered. "By the way, Bradford, how big is your dick?" "What?" he asked completely stunned. "You walk around here with that big lump showing in your pants" I said grinning at him. "Just how big is that thing?" "Shit, Davon. Nobody shows as much dick as you do. Fred tells me that big snake of yours never seems to get soft, and I can see for myself it stretches halfway down your leg." "So, Fred's noticed, heh, and you have too." I said with a laugh. "But it's soft right now, Bradford" I said as I groped myself. "Fred ain't never seen it hard, and neither have you." "I'll take your word for it that it gets bigger when it's hard, Davon" he laughed. "I'll be glad to show you, Bradford. Maybe we should compare." "I know a losing cause when I see one" he said with a laugh. "I'm satisfied with my eight and a half inches, Davon. I don't need a monster like yours." "Eight and a half is good" I said with a smirk, "but you need to see what ten inches looks like. I'd be glad to show you. Yeah, I'd be more than happy to show you, up real close." "Thanks, but no thanks, Davon. I'll just admire it from a distance" Bradford laughed. "Besides, you might scare me to death." "No, I don't think so" I said with a leer "but I think it'd turn you on. I'm sure it'd turn you on." "I'll take that under advisement, Davon" he said as he walked away. So, he'd admired it from a distance, had he? Not sure what he meant, but I liked the sound of it. --------------- So there I was. No fuck boy, no Ezekiel. Only Omar. I did fuck Omar several times, but I needed a hole to stick my dick into on a regular basis; four or five times a day. And besides, Omar was a big guy, well over two hundred pounds. Okay, so I love fucking big guys and I really love dominating them. I mean, there really ain't nothing as exciting as taking a big hunk of muscle, as big as, or even bigger than me, and turning him into my pussy boy. But what I really needed on a permanent basis was a young boytoy. And when I say toy, I mean toy. Somebody young and innocent who I can mold to my needs. Somebody with a pretty face and a muscular body, but also on the small side, maybe 5'7" or 5'8" and less than 150 pounds. Somebody I can train to be a perfect slave, willing and eager to crawl for me and submit to my every need and desire, and any perverted compulsion that I might come up with. Someone who I can generally just toss around and have fun playing with. Somebody with a trained throat and a tight ass and an enthusiastic tongue to give me all the action I can handle; a boytoy. But now. Now. Hell, there's nothing worse than using your right hand when there are pretty mouths and hot asses all around just waiting to be plugged, but just out of reach. I was getting desperate and Bradford was not being much help. Hell, the overweight Latino guy two cells down who was drooling over me all the time was almost beginning to look good. I mean, a blow job is a blow job, right? Wrong. I need a pretty face to stick my prick into. I mean, there ain't nothing that makes my prick wilt faster than looking down and seeing it plowing into some grey-haired creepy looking guy's face. So, I was feeling pretty damn sorry for myself until one day when Omar, Jasen and I were sitting at a table in the rec room. I saw a vision. A mirage? An illusion? What I saw was the most beautiful kid I'd ever seen, an absolutely, astonishingly, gorgeous, kid, a superbly perfect human male animal. Enough superlatives? I was actually stunned as this ravishing creature walked through the rec room following along with the warden. And he caught my eye. Or, maybe I caught his eye. He didn't react in any way, but he definitely noticed me. And, you betcha I noticed him. As always, your comments are very important to me. Please take a moment to send me a response. Please remember that Nifty needs your support so they can continue providing all these great stories for free. Contact me at: gladiatorkid@hotmail.com or ddcolwell@live.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/davon-white-superstud/davon-white-superstud-1

Date: Sun, 12 May 2024 12:31:37 +0000 From: Duane Colwell <ddcolwell@live.com> Subject: Davon White, Superstud Chapter One This is an erotic fiction story about a gay black man with emphasis on muscle worship and domination with nonconsensual sex between characters. If this is not your thing or you are under legal age of consent, please stop now. This story is entirely fictional and is not meant to depict any characters or places or actual events in real life. Any similarity to reality is entirely coincidental. This story is for your personal use only. Any other use or transfer to another site is prohibited without the consent of the author. Davon White, Superstud Chapter One "Hey, that one's mine" I said as the guard walked by with a new prisoner. A cute young white kid. Not only very young and very pretty, but husky as well, because even with those loose clothes, it was easy to see the stomach was flat, the shoulders were wide, and those biceps bulged. And that pissed me off. I mean, the guards know I go for twinks, and they should have come to me first. "Hey, Jackie. I said that one's mine." This time she stopped and looked back. Now, everybody in this place knew what kind of kid I liked, and this one sure seemed to fit the bill. I mean, I always have my pick of the youngest and prettiest ones and I'd had several as cell mates over the past two years. Black kids and Hispanic kids up till now but I wouldn't mind training a white boy. I prefer brown skin color on my boys, but hell, I could make him get a suntan. "Ahhh... Davon. He was assigned to thirty-one. That's where I'm supposed to take him." "Well, that's goddamn well gonna be changed. Right now. You take him the hell back and get him assigned to me. Hey kid. Come here." The boy turned and looked at the guard. Jackie shrugged he shoulders and nodded over towards my cell. The kid just looked at her, kinda with a `what the fuck' look on his face. "Do as he says" Jackie said. So the kid walked over to my cell. "Yeah, man?" he said with a sneer on his face. "Wha'chu'want." My prick gave a jerk, giving me the beginning of a hard-on. Oh fuck did it give me a flash. I've seldom seen a kid this perfect, and I wanted him. I wanted him bad. A frisky young colt with a pretty baby face and nice body. An arrogant white boy who really needed to be taken down a notch. Oh shit, I couldn't wait to take this kid down. Reaching through the bars, I grabbed his collar and yanked him forward hard, banging his face against the bars. With my other hand I grabbed his crotch and squeezed. "Yeeeoooh" he yelled. "Hey... hey..." "Nobody calls me `man', motherfucker" I said as I squeezed hard. "White boy's always call me Sir." Letting go of his collar I took hold of his neck with one big hand choking him and forcing his face up, jamming it against the bars. But right now, it was his balls he was worried about, and he had dropped his bundle and was pulling at my hand with both of his, trying to pull me off. He was pretty strong, but I was not about to let go of him. He may have had muscles, but they didn't even begin to compare with mine. "Yeeeoooh .... Stop. God damn it, stop." he hollered, or tried to holler, as I kept squeezing his neck. Then he yelled at Jackie. "Guard. Guard." He was panting like mad and obviously blown away by my actions. Jackie didn't interfere but just stood there waiting for me to do my thing. "I said you call me sir, you white piece of shit. So say it." And damned if he didn't give in, right there on the spot. And I knew, I knew instantly as I felt my cock throb, that dominating and controlling this kid was going to be one of the most exciting events of the year. "Okay, man, okay. Sir" he choked out, so I let go of his crotch. As I let go of his neck, he backed away from the bars gasping for breath and holding his crotch with both hands. "Jesus Christ," he moaned. "Oh, you are a pretty one" I said with a chuckle. I couldn't believe how hard I was. This kid was turning me on like no one had for weeks, or even months. "You are beautiful." "Fuck you" he answered as he stepped back out of my reach. But I saw something in his eyes. Oh, yeah. He wasn't so blind that he couldn't see that I was twice his size, with muscle like he'd never seen before. In just these few seconds he already knew I was superior to him and could take him down with one hand behind my back if I wanted to. Hell, he already knew I was somebody to be feared, someone who could take control and make him submit, I could see it in his face. I wanted to howl with excitement. "Now, Jackie" I said as I smiled at the kid, "you head back the way you came and get him reassigned to me. And tell Ralph that I'm pissed that he wasn't assigned to me in the first place. He damn well should have asked me." "But Davon, you've got Carl in there" Jackie said. "So, transfer him for Christ's sake. Do I have to do all the thinking around here? Just keep him close so he's available when I want him. Now go talk to Ralph." "Okay, Davon. Okay, okay" Jackie answered, and taking the kid by the arm she headed back up the cell block. "See you later white boy" I said, giving him a big grin. He was still holding his nuts and fear was still showing in his eyes. So, I was getting a new cell mate, and no doubt the prettiest one I'd ever had. I mean, shit, a real muscle boy, and he also had one of those boyish faces that made him look like he was only sixteen or so. My current boy, Carl, was thirty-one years old and a little on the skinny side. Not my preferred type at all. He had been with me for three months now and had been just about as perfect as a guy could get, but the fact was, he was too old and besides, I was getting bored with him. I mean, I used to fuck him three, four times a day but now I barely got around to it once. They say variety is the spice of life, and I was definitely ready for some spice. Carl's been a perfect little pet almost from day one. Obviously, he was used goods; somebody else had trained him, but he always seems to know instinctively what I want almost before I do, and he's one hundred percent obedient. He openly wears my slave collar and not once in three months has he complained or talked back. That's both good and bad, because, hell, I like showing off my power and control, so knocking my fuck boys around a bit can be entertaining. Oh, I slapped Carl around occasionally too just for the hell of it, but he didn't need it. I was excited knowing this boy would probably fight back and I'd have a chance to knock him around a bit and really rape him. Oh yeah, rape. Hey, what do you think I'm in here for? Here in prison? Rape is my game. I'd raped about a dozen guys over the past few years and a few girls besides, but they'd only caught me once. And since we got that kid so intimidated, he backed off and said it was only an assault. Three years. Six months to go. You might say I'm still raping guys, here in prison, but I'll tell you, it ain't the same thing. Forcing a guy to give up his ass while locked up in a cell with me is kindergarten stuff, not at all like picking out the prettiest kid on the street and dragging him home for a few days of pleasure. Besides, I had more choices on the outside and I wanted them young and hunky. And I ain't gonna lie about it, I got a thing about overpowering and fucking straight guys, at least straight looking guys. It's like some urge deep down inside of me that tells me I gotta have some not-quite-willing boy ass. It's like a street drug for me that I need over and over again. And taking them virgin is as sweet as candy. Prison in some ways improved my life but in other ways made it worse. On the outside I kept some of the studs around for a couple days after I raped them for some pleasure fucking, and I could go get a new one when I wanted to. Here in prison I didn't have new stuff available very often, but at least I had a full-time flunkey available every day to take care of all my needs. In here they're not only my flunkey's and all-around servants, but my fuck boy's as well, and available for me to get my rocks off whenever I want. But, as I said, rape is my thing but it's only rape the first time you screw a guy. After that it's consensual. In fact, they ask for it, actually beg for it and thank me after. I make sure of that. And the real thing, true rape must be with a virgin, so it has to be the first time. After that I make them beg me to fuck them. After that, they mostly want it anyway, or at least they pretend they want it. That ain't rape. But there just ain't nothin like the real thing, taking a guy down and ramming it to him. Having my swollen monster jammed up a guy's ass, while he's squealing and crying as I drilled it to him, drives me to extremes of rapture and delight; and, oh fuck, do I ever miss it. I mean, nothing gets my juices flowing more than raping a guy. Not just some weak little girl who wants my babies, but a guy, a real man, a tough husky straight man. Just the thought of forcing some guy to choke on my ten-incher and then ramming it to him in his tight virgin ass makes me sweat and drives my desire levels to new heights. I couldn't fuckin wait to get out of this damn place and back on the streets where I could get back into action. Training and fucking this new boy, this white boy, was going to give me more satisfaction than anything I'd had since the day they'd put me in here. Like they say: `double your pleasure, double your fun' with muscular white boy ass. Oh yeah! As the buzzer rang, I stepped over to the bunk beds and pulled the blanket off of Carl. "Shower time" I said, waking him up. By the time I'd walked over to the cell door he had already jumped down from the bunk, ran over and got my toiletries, and came up to stand beside me. As the door slid open, I headed down to the shower room with Carl one step behind. Once Carl got the water at the right temperature I stepped under the water and let it pour down over me. Then stepping out from under the water, Carl brought the shampoo and scrubbed my hair good. After rinsing and conditioning my hair I just stood there while Carl soaped me up. Carl always pretended to be a straight guy although I never believed it, but there was no doubt he loved soaping up my big, muscled body. I mean my 60-inch chest, 19-inch arms and 32-inch thighs were magnificent, those of a superman, and who wouldn't want to be able to feel me up? Carl had been doing it for three months and I could see that he would get almost delirious with the pleasure of feeling and soaping up every inch of my body. Except for an occasional massage he wasn't allowed to touch me with his hands but only his mouth and tongue, so he had learned to appreciate this time. "Pack up babe" I said to him when we got back to the cell. "You're leaving." "What? Ahhh.... Really, sir?" he said in surprise. That didn't need an answer, so I didn't give him one, but he jumped to it to get his things together. And that was when Jackie came back down the hall with the hunky white boy again. "Okay, Davon" she said. "Arrangements have been made. Louis is moving in with you and Carl is going down to twenty-seven with Cramer and Alex is going to thirty-one. Louis, this is your cell mate Davon. I'm sure he'll show you the ropes" she said and couldn't help giggling. "Yeah, I'll do that. But what did Ralph say?" "He said we got a lot of newbies this morning and he was rushed so he didn't even think about it. But it's okay now. He's fixed it. Shouldn't you get dressed, Davon?" "This is just for you Jackie" I said with a laugh. "I know you like looking at this bod." As you can guess, I'd had Jackie a few times and she was crazy about me sticking my big boner into her. She said I ruined her for her boyfriend who evidently had a tiny dick. A lot tinier than mine anyway. I offered to stick my ten inches into him to show him how good it could get but she only laughed. But I swear to God, she considered it and I damn well know she would have loved watching. "Come on, Carl. Let's go" she said as she grinned at me and then herded Carl down the hall. So, suddenly, I had a cute young white boy to play with. He had one of those wonderful baby-faces which made him look like a teenager. He had to be older than that, but hey, I'll take a cute teenager any day of the week. "Ahhh... I guess we got off on the wrong foot" he said with a gulp, and he stuck out his hand. "I'm Louis." I mean, hell, he had to be intimidated because I was still only wearing a towel. My body is massive and all of it muscle, so anybody'd be intimidated. "No, we didn't" I growled as I ignored his hand. "Now stay the fuck out of the way. I've got work to do." He got this shocked look on his face and dropped his hand. I was happy to see that he wasn't so much angry with me as surprised and disappointed. That was good. I think that'd make him more malleable. I sat in the only chair in the room at the tiny table and picked up my cell phone. "Don't set on the bunks" I said. There was no place to sit in the cell except the chair I was sitting in or the bunks, so Louis had a choice of standing up or sitting on the floor. That was a good way to start with him because I knew it'd make him uncomfortable. Now, let me tell you about my situation in this place. I'm Boss. I do whatever the fuck I want. I know when they are going to inspect the cells, so I just slip my phone into a guard's pocket and he or she hands it back a half hour later. No sweat. And the guards are well compensated, several with my cock and all of them with other goodies. And, of course, I have a lucrative business outside. Even as a child I was always a big kid and tough as nails, so when I joined a gang at age thirteen, I beat the shit out of the twenty-one-year-old leader and took over and had been in charge ever since. We were a small gang and kept to our own neighborhood, so we weren't bothered by the big boys, but our own drug trade and real-estate deals and some extortion were substantial enough to keep all of us in the chips. And, even though I was in prison, the guys were still terrified of me and of my Lieutenant, Jamal. Jamal and I had been fuck buddies before prison and he was damn near as big as I was, so nobody messed with him. And he's totally dedicated to me. So, I got Jamal on the phone, and we went over what was going on with the trade, and I got an update of the balance of my bank account, well up in six figures now. "Okay, Jamal, I've gotta go" I said into the phone as I looked up to see where Louis was. "Gotta new cell mate, a white boy, I gotta get acquainted with." Jamal laughed and I laughed along with him. Louis had put his things on the top bunk and was now standing in the corner by the bars leaning against the wall and just kinda looking at the ceiling. He glanced over when I stood up. My towel accidentally-on-purpose slipped off and fell to the floor leaving me totally nude. A monstrous muscle God; a demigod in the raw who towered over his five foot ten by six or seven inches. A muscle god with a demon sized prick dangling down from his middle. "You been in prison before, boy?" I asked him. He looked at me and his eyes went up and down and stopped at my middle where my `thing' was hanging. Just the thought of what was coming was making it wake up, and in just those few seconds it began to grow and lengthen. "No man, I ain't never' he said as he took a second look and then tried to look away. "You ever see muscles like these, Louis" I asked as I gave him a most muscular pose, forcing my incredible muscles to expand to their maximum. "Huh?" "Ahhh... man. I... ahhh." "You ever see a pecker like this, Louis?" It was at least half hard now and sticking out as I reached down and gave it a flick and watched as it bobbed up and down. Louis was watching intently, and I saw his Adams apple move as he took a gulp. "It's a beauty, ain't it?" I asked. I couldn't help but grin as Louis couldn't seem to take his eyes off it as it continued growing. "Ten inches, babe. Ten fat fuckin inches." Hey... man. I... ahhh. I... I ain't..." "I know you're new here Louie, but there are some things you gotta learn real quick. One is that I'm in charge." Leaving my towel on the floor I raised my arms and flexed my incredible nineteen-inch arms into a double biceps pose. "I'm in charge because I say so, and because these muscles say so." "Hey man, I don't want no trouble with you. I can see you're a big guy, and I don't want to mess with you, but I ain't no punk and I ain't no fag. You don't want to mess with me either." I laughed aloud as I dropped the pose and stepped closer to him. "I ain't had a workout yet today so maybe you and me could get it on, get me limbered up a bit." I was giving him one of my biggest grins which I knew was probably as much or more intimidating than my muscles. "Hey, man. Don't." Hey, I'm not going to bother getting into the nitty-gritty of this but need it be said that fifteen minutes later he was on the floor with his pants down to his knees and his hands tied behind his back with the underwear I'd ripped off of him? He was lying on his back with me sitting on his stomach and one of his socks was stuffed in his mouth. He had a bruise or two and a cut lip but that was all, and of course I was totally unscathed. But the look on his face was sensational. Huge terror filled eyes bugged out, with tears dripping down his cheeks. So fuckin hot. Believe it or not, I'd forgotten how incredibly fabulous it was to clean up on a beautiful young white lad. I know he's locked up in a cell with me, but it almost feels like the real thing. I mean, I hadn't raped anybody in here for months even though I dreamed and fantasized about it a lot. But right now, taking this white boy down was driving me totally bonkers, and had to be the most exciting thing on the planet. Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it. Ain't nothing as much fun as wiping up the floor with a cute muscle boy. "Oh, baby. You make me so fuckin hot" I said, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh shit, yeah. And you see what you do to me?" Rising up on my knees, my enormous fat cock was now right in his face but pointing up at the ceiling. "Look at this, baby. You ever see a prick like this? Huh? Well, it's all yours. You gonna get fucked like in your wildest dreams." Sliding up slightly to sit on his chest, I pushed my pole down and started rubbing it against his face. He tried to turn his face away, so I grabbed him by the hair, banged him hard against the floor, and told him to behave. I had to do it two/three times before he finally gave in and held still while I rubbed my prick all over his pretty face. Gathering a big gob of spit, I let it drop on my prick and smeared it around. After doing it a second time my cock was getting nice and wet, so I started smearing it all over his face again, getting him nicely coated with my spit, and letting him know I could do any damn thing I wanted to him. "Don't you worry, baby, you'll get your chance at my juicy Popsicle," I said with a laugh. "You gonna learn to suck on this demon like it's your favorite cream stick." He still had that shocked look on his face and the tears were really streaming down his cheeks and you just can't imagine what this kind of total domination does to me. It turns me into a raving lunatic. He already had some bruises since I'd knocked him around some to soften him up, but there was still a ways to go to get him trained. I slugged him in the face with my fist. You wouldn't believe how that turns me on. "Oh shit. Oh, fuckin shit" I chortled as I slugged him again. He yelled both times as I hit him and lay there with a shocked look on his face looking up at me. But I was delirious. Shit, this is what I lived for; beating up a guy, a muscly guy, and getting ready to rape him. I couldn't restrain myself, so I actually howled in pleasure. "Ohhhh, Yeeaah." Please understand that I wasn't hurting him. Well, not much anyway. Not by my standards. This was just the beginning of his obedience training, letting him know who was boss. Letting him know that I now owned him, he belonged to me. "Baby, I gotta fuck you" I said as I flipped him over on his stomach and yanked his pants off. Getting my knees between his legs I forced his ass up in the air so it'd be perfectly aligned with my throbbing pecker. Now this is a rape and I'm assuming the guy is a virgin, so I know it's going to hurt, but I didn't want to tear him up. I intended to use this hole lots of times in the future so I knew I couldn't ram into him completely dry. So, I dropped a gob of spit into his crack and rubbed it around a bit. Then doing it again I punched my thumb into his bung hole and slid it in and out a couple times. Then spitting one more time I crammed two fingers in there and decided he was as ready as he was going to get. However, just before punching it into the boy's tiny little hole, I spit on my cock one more time to get it really well lubricated. I may be a rapist, but I ain't no monster, cuz, as you can see, I can be pretty damn thoughtful sometimes. I took aim at his little pucker and pushed. He had a sock crammed in his mouth, but you'd have hardly known it from the loud squeal he made as the head of my big missile launched its way into his ass. I just held the head of it in there for maybe a full minute, letting him adjust to it because I know the head of the damn thing really opens a guy up like he's never been opened before. I'm into domination but not necessarily into torture. I ain't gonna make him suffer too much but he sure's hell is gonna know I'm taking his ass and that I'm gonna own him from now on. After giving him that minute, I started to push harder. Like any virgin ass that had not been stretched to super-size, he was incredibly tight, but there was no holding back my big bludgeon as I forced three or four inches into him. He was still screaming but at this point I no longer cared. I knew I wasn't tearing him up so if it hurt him some, that was just a benefit of being fucked by a muscle stud with an oversized dick. Hell, no pain, no gain, and this kid was learning to handle one huge dick up his ass. With time, he'd learn to appreciate getting this muscle stud's prick anyway he could get it, and I can tell you, he was going to get one hell of a lot of practice. At this point I was genuinely enjoying the fuck, and nothing was going to hold me back from enjoying it a hell of a lot more before I was done. Hesitating for just a few seconds now, I started to fuck. Pulling back an inch or two I pushed back in. Doing it over and over, and each time going slightly deeper and loosening him up some more. The feeling against my cock was fabulous, like sparks shooting through my brain. A virgin ass of a white muscle boy who now belonged to me was wrapped around my cock and was sending signals of sheer ecstasy throughout my system. I mean, damn, what more could a guy ask for. When I finally reached bottom, I just flopped down on top of him, flattening him to the floor. He wasn't yelling any more, but he was weeping softly. "Oh fuck, kid" I gasped, trying to get my breath. "What an ass. I may stay in your tight little hole all day." And I wasn't lying. I hadn't even started yet, and I was already dreading it coming to an end. God, you have no idea what true rape does for me. But I knew all good things must come to an end, and besides I was hot, really, really hot. Getting back on my knees between his legs and pulling his ass up again, I started really reaming him out. Reaching around him and getting a good hold on both his shoulders, I started slamming it to him, hard and fast. I could hear a muffled grunt each time I slammed into him but at least he wasn't screaming. I have incredible control and can sometimes fuck a guy for hours, but right now I was getting much too hot much too quickly. But how often do you get a pretty white boy's hunky virgin ass to fuck? Man, this was just too good to make into a quick fuck. I was hot and getting close but there was no damn way I was going to finish already. I mean, I hadn't raped a guy for months, and seldom a guy as hunky as this one, so I wanted to savor it and make it last. Shit, Louie's ass could only be virgin once, and when he learns to accept getting fucked it ain't gonna be rape anymore, so this was a one-time event. I slowed down and started to gently push in and out. I was still going deep, but I wasn't slamming it to him, and I wasn't going as fast as before. Slow, smooth movements going in and out of his beautiful ass. A marvelous feeling of squeezing my cock in his tight hole, and I wanted it to go on like this forever. I reached up and pulled the sock out of his mouth. "Oh man, baby. What an ass you got. Your hot little hole was made for my big horsemeat." "Please, man" he whimpered. "Please. It really hurts." "This is Davon fucking you, babe. Davon White, with the biggest and bestest damn fuck stick in the state. Ain't many lucky enough to get their virgin ass broke in by me, baby, so you damn well better appreciate it." I was whispering in his ear as I continued the slow fuck, but now I moved down to his neck and gave him a good solid love bite. He let out a yelp and I knew I'd marked him good and it was going to show my ownership tomorrow. "Your job from now on is to make me feel good and keep me happy, baby. A little pain is nothing when you can get your ass plugged by a god. And baby, I'm a god." I rammed it to him hard as I said this, and he howled. "Yeeeaaaoh. Man, you're killing me. Stop. Please stop." "Shut the fuck up, you little prick. You ain't never had it so good. You gettin fucked by Davon." The continuous pressure on my cock as I continued the slow fuck was incredible, and I began to think I could go on like this all morning; my ten inches smoothly sliding in and out of this muscle boy's no longer virgin ass. He was still whimpering a little while I continued fucking, which was annoying, but I let it go. Next time I fucked him I'd make him beg me to do it, and I'd force him to tell me he loved it. I'd make sure he understood that being fucked by muscle god Davon was an honor and he was fuckin privileged to take a little pain when I allowed him to take me up his bung hole. A well-trained slave craves pain when it's provided by his master. "Ah... hum..." I heard a voice. "Go to hell, Jackie" I growled, and I didn't hesitate for a second on my slow fuck. "Warden wants to see you, Davon. He says now." "I'm busy, Jackie." "He says now, Davon." "Okay, right away." I scooted my knees in and pulled his ass even higher in the air and holding on to one shoulder, I grabbed a handful of hair with the other and started slamming it to him hard and fast, real pile driver blows. Since I'd removed the sock he was now moaning aloud, but I was so close it really didn't matter. I'd been holding myself right up to the edge for the past twenty minutes, so I was there within thirty seconds. Slamming into him one last time and giving a hard yank on his hair causing him to yelp, I blasted my first shot into his ass. We were both dripping with sweat as I fired time after time into his butt. He was groaning and so was I as I kept blasting into him, and I assume Jackie was getting her eyes full through the bars. But it finally ended, and I began to relax and get my breath. "You better watch the noise, Davon" Jackie said. `Oh, shut up, Jackie" I said with a laugh. "Just enjoy the show." Jackie loved to be roughed up when I fucked her, and she also loved watching me rough up my boys as well. This wasn't the first time she'd come to my cell to watch. As I finally got my breathing back to normal, I pulled my cock back allowing it to pop out of Louis' ass. I stood up. "There's a sink and washcloth over there, Louie. Clean yourself up and I'll see you when I get back." Louis was still lying there while I got dressed and went along with Jackie to see the warden. All the Warden wanted to know was why Louis was shifted from cell thirty-one to my cell. I simply explained that Carl had already requested a move, and Ralph had forgotten about it, so now they had to make the switch. I'm not sure if the warden believed me, but he probably felt it wasn't important enough to get involved in. When I got back to the cell Louis was lying on the top bunk on his side facing the wall. I walked right over and gave him a slap on the ass. "How you doin, baby" I asked happily? I was in a great mood because, for God's sake, how often can you put something over on the warden of the prison. It was no big deal manipulating the guards, but the warden? "Leave me alone" he murmured. "You show me some respect and call me sir, and I'll leave you alone." There was a long pause. "If you don't show me some respect and call me sir, I'm going to drag you out of there and kick the shit out of you." I put my hand on his head, letting him know I was ready to follow through. "Sir" he said, actually shouted. Bit of sarcasm there, but I decided to let it go. No big deal. I'd straighten him out later. Besides, I was in such a great mood that I figured I could give him a few hours off before we got into the serious slave training. After dinner I made a couple phone calls and then decided it was time. Walking over to the bunks where he was lying on his stomach, I slammed him in the lower back with my fist, right into the latissimus dorsi. He screamed and rolled over away from me. "It's time kid. You and me gonna have a little talk, and I'm gonna teach you a few things. Get down here." I walked over and sat on the chair. Louis was staring at me with a frightened look on his face, but he hadn't moved. "I'll give you ten seconds to get over here, and then I'm coming to come get you and you ain't gonna like it. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six ....." He knew he'd better go along with me so he got down off the bunk and stepped over to me. "You know, I didn't like the way you said `sir' to me when I came in. I think you need to practice. Say `yes, sir'." Yes, he was sweating, and there was the beginning of tears in his eyes but he knew he'd better obey. "Yes, sir" he whispered. I stood up and smiled at him, and so quick he didn't have time to blink, slammed him in the sternum, right between his pecs, knocking him back across the room to bang into the bunks, but he stayed on his feet. "That wasn't good enough" I said still smiling. "Get back over here and say it again." "Hey, man. Please" he said, his voice shaking. "Please don't do this. Just leave me alone." "I already told you, boy, that I'm in charge and I do whatever I hell want, and you'll do whatever the hell I want, too" I said with a laugh. "Now, get over here." Obviously frightened but knowing he had no choice, he came back to stand in front of me. "You ain't very good at `siring', so let's make that `master'. Say `yes master' and say it nicely." Very meekly he answered: `yes, master." I slammed him in the sternum again, this time knocking him back on his ass. He let out a yell and just stared up at me in horror. I was still smiling. "Maybe it'll sound better if you do it on your knees. Here, in front of me" I said pointing to the floor at my feet. Obviously, I had him totally terrorized now. He was afraid to get close to me, but he was also afraid not too. "Move it" I yelled and scared him so much that he jumped to obey. In three seconds, he was in front of me, and since I was still pointing at the floor, got on his knees. "This is definitely better" I said continuing to smile brightly. "I like you down there. Now say it." "Yes, master" he whispered. Then, as he watched, I unbuttoned the top button of my pants and very obviously stuck my hand inside and groped myself. Pulling it back out I held it in front of me him. "Kiss it." It's hard to believe that he could look even more shocked that he had been already, but he did. "Ohhh... man. Geeze.... Please man" he mumbled as he stared at me in horror. I gave him ten seconds or so to think about it. "You're going to kiss it. Either now or after I kick your ass, but you are going to do it." "Oh.. man. Oh, please man. I ain't.... This ain't... This ain't my thing." And of all crazy things, he raised his hands and put them in front of his face. The most fuckin hilarious thing I'd ever seen, as if I was going to go away if he couldn't see me. It totally cracked me up and I couldn't help but laugh out loud. What a wuss. But as I laughed, I reached over and slugged him on the jaw with my fist, right next to where his hand was. He went over backwards and hit his head on the floor. Now I've got more muscle than any other two guys in this place and when I knock a guy down, he stays down, and he's going to remember it for at least a week. He just lay there totally dazed for over a minute and then started whimpering softly. "Please, man. Don't. Please." I gave him another minute or so just watching him lying there crying. "Get up" I said softly. Sniffling and crying he looked up at me with these big sorrowful eyes. He looked totally pitiful, but this was a look I loved to see on my boys. I've seen this look lots of times. It's the final look they have just before they give in to me completely and accept my total domination. "I don't like to repeat myself" I said ominously. "Get-up-here." "Please... man" he whispered through his whimpering as he slowly got back up on his knees. "I ain't... I ain't... I..." "I told you to kiss my hand" I said very softly. This is how I train a guy. Don't shout. Speak softly and let them hear the menace behind the words. "Now do what I told you." And damned if he didn't lean forward and give my hand a kiss. But hell, nobody should be surprised. This kid was now broken, or damn near broken. Give me another twenty-four hours and he'll be a near perfect slave. Again, as he sat there on his knees watching me, I reached inside my pants, groped myself and pulled back out. I just watched as his brain assimilated this and he decided what to do. When he leaned forward to kiss my hand, I pulled it back. "Say please" I said softly. "Huh?" I just waited and stared into his eyes. "Please?" he whimpered. "Ask for it." "Huh? Wha...?" "Ask for permission to kiss my hand." "Ohhh... geeze, man. Geeze." I waited for a bit and then formed my hand into a fist and raised it up in front of his face. "Oh fuck, man. Can I kiss your hand?" "You're getting there" I said smiling down at him. "Do it again and say please." After a pause he whimpered. "Please, may I kiss your hand?" "Yes" I said. My hand was back at my side and I didn't move it, so he had to lean forward to give it a kiss. Just to emphasize how completely in control I was, I reached into my pants and groped myself once more. Pulling my hand out I waited. "Please, may I kiss your hand?" he said, still crying softly. "Master" I said. Giving into me totally he said: "Please, may I kiss your hand, master?" This was stage one of my training program, and it went perfectly according to plan, just like it did every time. I mean, I'd done this lots of times before and it was guaranteed to go like clockwork, and it was an incredible turn on every time. Think about it, there ain't much to do in prison to entertain yourself but dominating and humiliating a kid makes up for a whole lot. Right now, my cock; shit, my cock was like a steel rod and was actually aching. Getting a new straight pretty boy ready for a blow job had to be the most exciting thing in the world. "Every time I speak to you, you answer `yes master'." It took him a few seconds to figure this out but then he answered. "Yes, master." "Hands behind your back." "Yes, master" he said as he obeyed me. Then I put a big paw behind his head and pulled him into my crotch. There was no question that he knew this was going to happen, although he may have been hoping and praying that it wouldn't. He knew it was coming, and he also knew he was going to end up giving me a blow job. "Kiss it" I said. "Kiss it through my pants." He had stopped crying and whimpering, but I could see the tears still dripping down his cheeks. But he had given into the inevitable and was going to do what he was told. The fun thing about making a straight guy into a fuck slave was that they usually fight back, and there are few things I like better than whipping a boy's ass. Louis fought back at first but was smart enough to see that he had no chance against a muscle man twice his size, which made him smarter that most of the guys I'd raped. Even the assholes that fought me knew they didn't have a chance but somehow their masculinity required that they must try to defend their honor. So, it looked like Louis was going to come out of this in a whole lot better shape than a lot of the punks I'd taken down. Only a couple bruises so far. "Now don't fuck with me, little boy" I said menacingly. "Kiss it". So, he gave my big prick a kiss. "Suck on it" I ordered. "Get it wet. I want to see my pants dripping." And away he went. Getting lots of salvia together he started sucking on the enormous bulge stretching down the leg of my pants. With my hand gripping his head, I maneuvered his face up and down the ten-inch length of my monster, getting it wet. "Okay, show time, slave boy" I said. "You gonna give me a blow job. Get your hands up here and undo my pants." "Oh, man. Please, man" he whimpered. I grabbed him by the chin, squeezing his cheeks fiercely. "You gonna blow me, boy, no matter what. So, do it before you make me mad." He started crying again but he reached up and unbuttoned my pants so they fell to my feet. My prick was so hard that it was pushing my jockey's out three or four inches. Hell, there ain't anything that can hold my cock back when it gets hard. "Pull `em down." He hesitated for only a couple seconds and then pulled my shorts down. "Get `em off" I ordered. He pulled the pants and shorts off as I stepped out of them. "Okay, now look at it." Rising back up on his knees he looked at what was surely the biggest, baddest most beautiful prick he'd ever seen. "It's a beauty, isn't it?" He just stared at it in dismay because he knew he was going to be sucking it in a minute. "Your best reply is `yes, master'" I growled at him. "Yes, master" he mumbled. "Go get the chair and bring it over here." He gave me a strange look but started to get up. "On your knees" I commanded. So, he crawled over on his hands and knees and grabbed the chair. He couldn't lift it while on his knees, so he had to drag it over to me. You gotta understand here, that in order to train a slave, you've got to humiliate him like crazy so that there ain't nothing too down and dirty for him to do. Once you've got him completely subservient and malleable and have proved your total dominance over him, you've got one hell of a perfect slave. Louis was not there yet, but he would be pretty damn soon. I sat on the chair and taking Louis by the ears, maneuvered him around in front of me. "You ever see such a beautiful cock?" I asked, grinning down at him. When he didn't reply immediately, I pinched one of his ears. "Ow" he squealed. "Ahhh... yes, master. I mean, no, master." "Kiss it. Kiss that beautiful cock. Kiss it all over." He knew he had no choice and my threats of kicking his ass were evidently enough for him to give into me completely. Most of the kids I put the screws to would still be fighting and getting their asses kicked, but Louis didn't seem to be that stupid. Didn't matter a whole lot to me since I would end up getting my blowjob anyway. In fact, I might have to decide to work Louis over just for the hell of it, because I admit, I'm sometimes a bit of a sadist and I like showing my power and dominance over guys and I sometimes like hurting them. I like watching them cringe and quiver when I even look at them funny and I love hearing them cry and beg. In fact, hearing a kid beg me to hurt him, or not to hurt him, whatever, was my favorite activity right up there next to fucking him. Louis said "yes, master" and started to kiss my huge boner. I told you I was about ten inches and I've had lots of fucks who wanted to measure it, evidently so they can brag that they handled the biggest hunk of meat they'd ever seen. Some of them measured eleven or more, and others just over ten, but never less than that. And it wasn't skinny either. Maybe it wasn't beer can size like some guys brag about, but it was damn hefty and one hell of a mouthful even for an experienced cocksucker. I'd trained Carl to be one hell of a deep throat cocksucker so I might have to use him some while I get Louis trained. And, believe you me, Louis was going to be one fantastic cocksucker by the time I was through with him. They all were once I got them totally trained. "You ever suck cock before, slave boy?" I asked as I took him by the chin and forced him to look up at me. "Hmm?" He was teary eyed and sniffling and looked terrified as I held his chin, squeezing his cheeks hard. "Ahhh... no" he mumbled. I gave his head a violent shake. "What?" "Ahhh... no. Ahhh..., master" he said. "Lier" I said, "all guys suck cock. But you haven't had to deal with a really big one." I pressed my thumb against his lips forcing his mouth open. "Suck" I said as I held his face forcing him to look up at me. With tears still dripping down he started sucking on my thumb. Removing my thumb after a bit, I grabbed his head with one big hand, my cock with the other and took aim at his lips. "Open up" I said as I pushed lightly. He opened his mouth a little, and then wider as I pushed, and then wider again as the head of my cock pushed in. "Suck on it you stupid shit" I snapped as he just sat there looking dazed. "Suck." After a few seconds he accepted what was happening and started to suck. "Lap it with your tongue, damn it. Ain't you ever had a blowjob before?" He said he hasn't done this before, but Jesus, every kid over twelve knows what a blowjob is and should know instinctively how to do it. I let go of my cock and gave him a slap across the face which, of course, knocked it out of his mouth and got a yelp from him. I pushed it back in. "Now, suck on the damn thing" I barked. "Suck." I didn't slap him easy, and it showed because he started sucking, moving his jaw and mouth and lapping away with his tongue. This was more like it. I know he'll get better with practice, but in the meantime, he was going to bust his ass trying to do his best or I was the one who was going to be busting ass. I moved my hand from the back of his head to his ear and twisted his head to the side. Grabbing my cock with the other hand, I pulled it out and slapped him in the nose and eyes a couple times before pushing it back in. I jammed it into his cheek a couple times and then aimed it dead center towards the back of his throat. He only had four or five inches in his mouth so far, but it was more than he could handle because his reflex took over and he gagged. I wasn't too worried about that because he was going to be doing a lot of gagging over the next couple weeks until he learned to handle ten inches. I pushed in, not into his throat, but right up against it causing him to upchuck, sending a stream of saliva out of his mouth and into my crotch. With my hold on his hair, I yanked him back, pulling my cock completely out of his mouth. He coughed twice and gasped for breath, and I rammed back in, all the way back against his throat again. He upchucked once more but I still held him there for a couple more seconds before I pulled him back. He was gasping for breath now and moaning and crying as well and his face was bright red. "You'll learn, baby" I said with a snicker. "It'll take time but you're going to become a deep throat specialist." Then I pushed just about four inches into his mouth. "Now suck on it, kid. Give me a blowjob. Make me feel good." Now he started to seriously concentrate on sucking my shaft, trying to do whatever he could to make it good for me. I pushed his head back and forth a few times getting him in the rhythm of the suck, and then moved my hands away and just let him go at it. "Make it tight, slave boy. Let me feel those lips moving up and down my prick." Since he was a virgin at this, I knew he'd get tired really quick, so I just let myself go, allowing the temperature to rise and the heat to build up in my prick. Carl's cocksucking style popped into my mind and I imagined myself being deep throated by him. It's amazing what a fantasy can do sometimes because I could almost feel my cock forcing its way deep into Carl's throat. Louis wasn't particularly terrible as a cocksucker, but then again, he wasn't very good either, so there was no way he was going to bring me off this way. So, grabbing his hair again, I dragged him back, twisting his head to the side, and started to vigorously give myself a hand job. It was not two minutes later that I felt myself reaching my peak. Standing up and holding Louis' head back I started shooting wads of cum into his face. The second shot went into his hair, but the rest went on his cheek, his nose, his lips, and even in his left eye. Louis hadn't said one word, nor even made a sound as I held his head and covered him with cum. He just sat there on his knees with his eyes closed stoically waiting for me to finish. "Suck" I said when I was finally done, and I pushed between his lips into his mouth. "Get a taste, fuck boy. You're going to be getting a lot of this." I let him suck me for a couple minutes so he could clean the final drops of cum off my prick. I was still holding his hair as I pulled out of his mouth and sat down. I reached over and picked up my jockey shorts where we'd dropped them on the floor, and carefully wiped his face. "Wha-cha say, boy. You like big black nigger cock?" I chuckled as he opened his eyes and looked up at me. "Do you just like it, or do you really love it? Tell me boy." "Oh, man...." he started to say but I hit him just below the ear with my fist, knocking him over on the floor. "Please, man" he whimpered as he put his hand to his ear. "Master" I said calmly. "Master" he repeated. I snapped my fingers and pointed in front of me. He got back on his knees and looked up and saw me glaring down at him. He was sobbing again with tears streaming down his cheeks, but he repeated `master' once more softly. "You open that mouth again you better be saying something I want to hear. Now, tell me you loved my big black dick." I just stood there with my hands on my hips looking at him, my still half hard cock dangling down in his face. He was looking up at a massively muscled giant of a man, as completely menacing as was humanly possible. "M-m-m-master" he croaked through his tears. "I.... i.... I loved your cock." Raising my arms up into a double bicep pose forcing my enormous nineteen-inch biceps to bulge up to their maximum, I watched his look of awe as he saw a body of almost unbelievable proportions. "You love my body too, don't you, boy?" "Y... y... yes, master," "You're going to love being my slave, aren't you?" He hesitated for just a couple seconds, clearly knowing what he had to say. "Yes, master." "Say it" I ordered, still flexing my massive arms. "I'll love being your slave, master" he said as he took a big gulp. "Pick up my underwear" I ordered as I relaxed my arms. He gave me a puzzled look but picked up the underwear I'd used to wipe the cum off his face. "Put it on your head." "Huh?" he murmured, still weeping softly. "I said, put it on your head" I said threateningly. He quickly slipped my cum soaked jockeys over his head. "You'll wear that all night so you can smell my cum. Now go to bed." I walked over to the open toilet to take a piss as he got up and climbed into the upper bunk. When I finished, I walked over to him. He was facing the wall and still weeping. I reached over, grabbed him by the chin again and jerked his head around to face me. My underwear was covering one eye, but he could see me through the leg hole with the other. He looked terrified. "I spend my time training a little prick like you, I expect some gratitude. You ain't never had nobody built like me with a cock like this even look in your direction before. You're one lucky little fuck, and I want to hear a thank you." He just looked at me with total terror showing in his face. I waited until he sunk into him what I said, but still holding his chin, I gave his head a good shake. Then he got the point. "Thank you, master" he whispered. He was so fucking cute. I gave him a big smile and a very quick peck on the lips. As I let go of him and climbed into my bed, I could hear him sobbing softly, and I was still smiling. I intended to sleep well because I was looking forward to a fun filled day tomorrow.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-cockpig/the-cockpig-5

Date: Mon, 14 Dec 2020 20:58:22 -0500 From: Jeff Hamby <jeffhamby1025@gmail.com> Subject: The Cockpig 5 This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Copyright 2020 by Jeff Hamby. All rights reserved. Warning: This story contains sexual acts between adult males If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relation to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction. If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to keep Nifty in business! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html The Cockpig Chapter 5 Make no mistake: creating a real cockpig takes work. It's like doing battle. You have to deprogram the faggot from the nonsense its been taught all its life, about how self-esteem is important, how it should respect itself, all that crap. See, with a cockpig, all that is turned upside down inside its little faggot brain. Nothing makes it more unhappy than trying to live like a normal person. The need to be degraded and used, the need to grovel in front of a real man and debase itself - those needs are constant. They never go away. The older the faggot gets, the stronger those desires become. A cockpig's brain functions the opposite of the way a real man's does. A normal man wants respect; protects his dignity and reputation; works to avoid pain and humiliation. Not a cockpig. It craves abuse and humiliation. Deep down, the faggot knows how it deserves to be treated, and repeatedly seeks out alpha males that recognize it for what it is and who will use it accordingly. Just like a real pig, which delights in eating garbage and rolling around in mud and shit, nothing makes a cockpig happier than being abused, degraded, and forced to suffer for the pleasure of a real man. At first, of course, this really fucks with the cockpig's head -- the faggot hates the treatment, but craves it constantly. That's cognitive dissonance, which is what causes most faggots to run away from their dark desires. It is that conflict which keeps them from fully submitting, from giving in to what they know is right for them despite everything society tells them, from living their truth. For the few who do, though, the true cockpig faggots - they achieve a satisfaction in their submission that most cock worshipers never find. Once they let go of any attempt at self-esteem or respect, once they completely surrender all dignity in exchange for true obedience, they finally achieve the contentment they've always sought, even if it's to be found in a cage, or encased in a gimp suit, being subjected daily to what others would call torture or abuse. With the little ginger fag, the battle was about half over. Transforming a faggot into subhuman property doesn't happen overnight. That's the mistake most of the so-called "masters" make. They try to make the transformation happen suddenly, in one fell swoop. That almost never works. It takes time. You have to make the transition happen slowly, step after inexorable step, allowing the faggot to overcome his fear at each stage before moving on to the next. Otherwise, he'll spook and flee, just like any other dumb animal you try to tame and break. The ones I look for are like my ginger cunt -- born inferior, and they know it. They've always known it, and now are finally ready to admit it. Like AA teaches, admitting the problem is the first step to becoming happy. Now that my pussyboy had taken some time to himself to consider his future and had decided he wanted to live as my slave, it was time to put that commitment to the test. Time to take the transformation to the next stage. Not in one big move, but in a series of small ones. Just like boiling a frog: start off in cold water and heat it gently. By the time the frog realizes what's happening, it's too late. The first step was exerting control from a distance, taking away the faggot's freedoms one at a time. I wanted to gradually but relentlessly chip away all those things that made him feel like a normal person. The chastity cage had already removed his ability to touch his little drain or pleasure himself, not to mention his ability to piss standing up. Every time the bitch had to sit like a woman to use the bathroom, it reinforced the differences between him and real men. The next step was taking away his identity in more concrete ways. I started by making him surrender his online accounts, beginning with his social media. He sent me the user names and passwords for his Facebook and IG, his Grindr and Recon accounts, and then finally his email. Of course, I immediately changed all the passwords so he had no access to them anymore. He didn't need them, and they provided me with a wealth of information about him, including a list of his family and friends which would definitely come in handy. The dumb bitch didn't realize it, but he'd just given me plenty of ways to expose his true nature to the world if I chose to do so. Those accounts were hard for the faggot to give up. Taking away his online connections really reinforced in his mind that he had no control and no privacy. But to accomplish the full transformation, I needed to take it further. Much further. I shipped him two small IP cameras, with instructions on how to install one in his bedroom and the other in his bathroom. Once they were in place, it gave me 24/7 access to watch him any time I wanted to. The cameras were wonderful training tools. They included full-color digital video and sound. He immediately recognized the loss of privacy. Even his bathroom was no longer private. I made it clear to him he was monitored and observed at all times: when he slept, showered, even when he took a dump. You should have seen the look on his face when I started dictating his schedule. No more free time or leisure time. Slaves get neither. I made him send me his work schedule, along with any other commitments he had, then structured his days and nights, including long periods where he was confined to his room, where I could watch him if I chose. The cameras were always on, and he had no control over the feeds. He had no idea if I was watching or not at any given time. All that mattered was that I might be watching, which was enough to ensure he was in that room, naked and ready to obey any order I gave at any moment. Of course, I had far more important things to do that spend my time watching over a faggot, so I set the camera feeds to record, allowing me to access them at any time if I wanted to check up on the pussyboy and verify his obedience. Since they were IP cameras feeding directly to the web, I was able to watch from anywhere, or allow any of my buddies to watch the fag any time they wanted from the comfort of their own homes. I made sure the faggot knew I could give out the pass code to observe his camera feed if I chose, to anyone I chose, at any time. Hell, I could even live-stream it on the web if I wanted to, allowing anyone who so desired to see him taking a shit, or displaying his hole, or groveling on the floor and begging to be used in nasty ways. It took the lack of privacy to a whole new level, really fucking with his head, carving into his brain that he was totally out of control, completely subject to my whims and desires. Another message was clear as well: your entire life is nothing but entertainment for me and other alpha males. After that, I started giving him regular orders. Some were daily routines: wake up and get down on all fours facing the camera, face on the floor, arms outstretched like you are praying. Stay that way for 20 minutes while contemplating what it means to serve a real man. Then, 20 minutes with your ass in the air pointed toward the camera, cheeks spread and your hole on display for me, just like you are begging for it to be used, filled, fucked. Nothing like a little quiet obedience upon waking up to set a faggot's mind right for the rest of the day. Plus, the camera allowed me to make sure he woke up and went to bed at prescribed times, regardless of how tired he was or what he had planned. I changed the times daily, so the bitch didn't get too used to a routine, explaining that a slave must always be available for its owner regardless of the hour, and should be just as thankful for any opportunity to serve as it is for any rest it's allowed. In addition to the faggot's daily routine, I included plenty of random use via the camera: fucking his hole with a dildo I sent him; drinking his own piss while I watched; regular and random inspections of his chastity cage to make sure it was secure, along with inspections to make sure he was groomed and dressed as ordered. I selected what he would wear; sometimes on a day-to-day basis, sometimes for the entire week. He was required to ask permission to go anywhere or do anything which deviated from his required daily routine. Visit a friend? Beg. Go out to dinner with your roommate? Grovel and plead for permission. Sometimes I gave it, but more often, I didn't. I wanted the faggot to get used to being denied pleasure, and I wanted to force him to face the humiliation having to of make excuses for why he couldn't go. Each element, each order, was designed to reinforce certain concepts: you have no privacy and deserve none; you have no choices and deserve none; all control and decisions are mine, as they should always be. Yeah, it was rough adjustment for the faggot at first. He was used to living like a real person, but he adapted quickly. Giving up all control just felt right to him, like it was the way his life was meant to be. Plus, the longer he was locked in chastity and went without release, the hornier he became, and therefore the more willing to obey me. At his young age, those locked balls were constantly throbbing with unspent cum. A horny faggot is a very obedient faggot. Once his brain was used to the lack of privacy and lack of choices, I began to take more from him. First, it was access to his bank account. That way I could see every expenditure or withdrawal he made, and you better believe I required him to account for every cent. After all, it wasn't his anymore, it was mine. He was allowed a minimal budget which I set, and only one check per month to his roommate for rent and utilities. When you are confined to your bedroom most of the time, you don't really need much money. Plus, limiting his expenses meant there was extra money for my benefit. I signed the pussyboy up for classes to develop him as a slave, using his money to pay for them. I soon had him taking classes in cooking, baking, and massage. Not only would they make him more valuable as a slave, but they used up a lot of his free time, which meant he was either working or serving me in some way. I wanted him to grasp that every minute of his day would revolve around me, every second of his time spent in some form of service or worship. After I got him used to my control over every aspect of his life, including his money, I went a step further and made him change his direct deposit at work. His pay went straight into my bank account now, not his. I put money in his account for needed expenses, but he was basically working his ass off every day to make money for me. Not that I needed it, of course. The small amount the faggot earned barely even registered in my bank account. It wasn't about the money. It was about demonstrating for the pussyboy what he was, and what he was good for. That really helped reinforce his status as a slave, convincing him he was nothing but owned property. This was a new life for the faggot, and these kinds of changes take time to work their way into a fag's brain and become a part of his new normal, to reshape his sense of identity and purpose into something more appropriate. I took my time. I kept the pussyboy like this for three months. Three months of restrictions and strict control. Three months of being permitted fewer and fewer choices and decisions, as well as a complete lack of privacy. Three months of denial, frustration, and no chance to grovel at my feet where he wanted to be. He had to earn that, I told him. I was making him prove his devotion to me every single day in a variety of ways. More importantly, I was completely reshaping his mental concept of who and what he was. When I was certain the pussyboy was ready, I set a date to go get him. Made him tell his roommate he was moving out. They were friends since high school, and I knew that would be a hard connection for him to sever. I also made him submit his notice at work. That was the big one. Jobs for untrained, uneducated fags aren't easy to find, and this bitch had no real skills except sucking cock, so giving up his job was a big loss, no matter how shit the job was in the first place. His last day of work was on a Friday. The next day, I went to pick him up. I'd given him strict packing instructions: two boxes of personal items only. Keepsakes, books, personal treasures and heirlooms all went into one box. Clothing, shoes, and other personal items went into the other. We'd pack up the furniture when I got there, I told him. When I arrived, he was waiting outside on the sidewalk in front of his apartment, next to his old car. The little faggot was dressed exactly the way I'd ordered: a pair of small blue gym shorts and nothing else. Shirtless, barefoot, no underwear -- as close to naked as I could get him in public. The look of confusion on his face when I pulled up in my car was adorable. He was expecting I'd arrive in a U-Haul or some type of truck to move his stuff. Reality was about to come crashing down on my fuckhole, and it was going to be entertaining to watch, as well as a key element of his transformation into property. He stood up and walked over to my car when I parked. As soon as I got out, I snapped my fingers and just pointed to the ground, to my boots. The fag immediately went into one of those full-body blushes I find so hot. He bit his bottom lip, then looked around the parking lot to see if anyone was watching. I snapped my fingers in front of his face again to focus his attention. This time, the bitch dropped to his knees and kissed my boots like a good little cunt. He was learning; slowly, but definitely learning. I ordered him up finally, and had him lead me into the apartment and to his bedroom. Cody, his roommate, wasn't home, which was disappointing. Once we got to the pussyboy's bedroom, I made him show me the boxes he had packed, which I inspected carefully. Just as I ordered, he'd sorted everything correctly. All his clothes, shoes, and other personal items, right down to his toothbrush and the butt plug I'd sent him, were in one big box. I pulled out his toothbrush and threw it into the much smaller box with his keepsakes. I checked the two cameras I'd sent him. Both were still in place, just as I'd ordered. I definitely wanted video of what was going to happen next. This was going to be a key moment in the fag's transformation, and I wanted it preserved for posterity, not to mention later viewing. I snapped my fingers and pointed to the floor. He dropped to his knees immediately. I pulled a leather slave collar out of my pocket along with a small padlock, and locked it around his neck. He began to whimper as soon as I did, partially from fear, I think, of what would happen if someone here in his small town saw him like this; and partially from his desperate need to please and obey, his little faggot balls, filled with all that unspent cum, making him hyper-horny and craving any chance to serve me. I grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look up at me. "Your new life starts now, asslicker," I told him, looking directly into his big blue eyes, his face wearing an expression which was a mixture of fear and burning desire. "Are you ready? Are you completely and absolutely sure, fuckhole?" He swallowed down his fear. "Yes, Sir, I'm ready, Sir." That was all I needed to hear. More importantly, he needed to hear it: his one last chance to back out, his final opportunity for a normal life, freely given away in exchange for ownership and servitude. I can't overstate what that does to a faggot's mind, how that final, conscious choice of submission fundamentally changes a pussyboy deep inside, at the core of his psyche. I pulled his head into my crotch and rubbed his face against the bulge in the front of my jeans. Once my cock started to harden, I unzipped and pulled it out, letting him slobber on my prick for a while. All that time without any cock to worship and without being able to jack off had worked its magic on the bitch. He acted like my cock was the best treat he'd ever had, sucking on it as if his life depended on it. I let him deep throat me a bit, then I used the ring on the front of his collar pull him up and throw him over the bed. Jerking his shorts down, I reached under him and grabbed his locked-up drain, pulling it back between his legs, smacking my big cock against his swollen balls, making him gasp and cry out from the pain. I rolled him over on the bed. I wanted to see his face when my cock went in his hole. I pulled his ass to the very edge of the bed, then grabbed both of his ankles and pulled them wide apart, positioning my hard cock right against his tight, puckered hole. There was a look of fear on his face: he knew what was coming, knew just how bad it was going to hurt. But still, the look was there, written across his face: not desire, since to this day he hates being fucked, but need -- a pathetic, naked, humiliating need to be used. I rammed my spit-slick cock into him all the way to my balls, causing the pussyboy to scream and tense all over, his legs straining against my grip in an effort to push out pole I'd shoved deep inside him. I fucked him. I fucked him deep and hard and without mercy, making him thrash and squirm on the bed, trying to get away from the invader in his guts, eliciting squeals and tears from my little ginger pig as I raped his hole. I shoved his legs backwards until his knees were almost against his ears, his asshole completely exposed and vulnerable, defenseless against my ramming cock. As I fucked him, I looked up at the camera in the corner of the room, the red light indicating it was on, its constant stream being recorded at my house. No doubt some of my friends were watching me violate the little bitch's cunt. I'd told them this would be some must-see TV. I gave the camera a thumbs-up, then redoubled my pounding of his perfect little ass. I shot my load deep inside the faggot, then pulled out and stepped back to see what he would do. Without an order, the fag immediately crawled off the bed and sank to his knees, cleaning up my cock, desperate to get every last drop of my cum. Once I was clean, I pulled his plug out of the box of his personal items and stuffed it up his hole to make sure none of my cum leaked out of him. "OK, cunt, time to get you moved," I told him. "Let's get your stuff and get on the road." He looked up at me from where he was kneeling, confused. "But...but Sir? How are we going to get all my stuff in your car? The bed and desk won't fit, even if we tried to put one in yours and one in mine." "Shut up, fag. First lesson: slaves don't own anything. They are owned. Everything you have is mine now, and I'll dispose of it how I like. Understand, asslicker?" "Yes, Sir," he replied, hanging his head. "Good bitch," I said. "Now, get that camera from the bathroom while I get the one from in here." After the cameras were uninstalled, I placed them in the box with his keepsakes. I found a pair of old, dirty Nikes in the box with his clothes, which I tossed in with his keepsakes. They were the oldest pair of shoes the fag had, but he would need something for his feet if I took him out in public at some point. I told the faggot to give me his wallet, car keys, and cell phone, which he promptly produced. He wouldn't be needing these any more, though I could tell he didn't quite realize that yet. Once I had them in my hands, I filled him in on his new life. "Listen closely, pig: you now own nothing. Anything you still have is only because I've allowed it, understand me? Your new life is at my feet, or in a cage if I decide to put you there, fuckhole. All the rest of this stuff? It's useless now. You won't need it. From this moment, you aren't even a person any longer, but a piece of property, a thing, an object. Truly an 'it'." I grabbed his chin again so he was looking directly at me. "So, all this useless crap is staying here. Is that clear, cumdump?" He actually let out a little whimper. He finally realized the truth, not just intellectually, but deep inside his soul: he was leaving his old life completely behind, along with all that went with it. All that would be left of his old life was contained in a small box slightly bigger than a shoe box: a few mementos from school, a keepsake or two collected over the years, and his toothbrush. I'd added his old Nikes and a faded blue T-shirt in case I needed the faggot more clothed, but that was it. He wasn't going to be allowed any other possessions, and he was now finally realizing that. He was forced to come to terms with the idea, at last, of truly being owned as property -- a real slave. There were tears rolling down his face at the idea of losing all he owned. At the same time, however, I could see his little drain straining against its cage, doing its best to get hard and failing, instead just adding to his suffering. I reached into my pocket and retrieved a leash I'd put there for this very moment. I attached the leash to his collar and ordered the fag to his feet, telling him to slip the gym shorts back on. "Get your little box, bitch," I ordered. Once he picked it up, I grabbed his laptop off the desk and led him out of the bedroom toward the car. Just as we walked out of the bedroom, I was surprised to see young man about the faggot's age sitting on the couch. He wasn't a big guy, about 5'8, with short brown hair that was kind of curly. He had full lips and dimples, along with a small pug nose which made him look very wholesome for some reason. I instantly began to wonder if that was true or not. This had to be Cody, the faggot's roommate and best friend from high school. He'd told me Cody was a baseball player in school, and I could see it. He had the lean, tight body of a former jock, without being as big and muscular as, say, a football player or wrestler. The fag practically worshiped Cody, from what I'd gathered in talking to him. They'd been friends for years, even before high school, but the faggot had never "come out" to Cody. No one in his small town knew he was a faggot, least of all the person he lived with. Cody was grinning when I came walking out. I think he'd heard us fucking in the bedroom, and assumed his friend had a girl in there he was pounding. The moment he saw me, his face fell, his expression turning to confusion, which only deepened when he saw the faggot follow me out, collared and leashed, holding a box of his belongings. Cody leapt to his feet, his mood turning to anger, ready to defend his buddy who was obviously, in his eyes, being abused in some way. "What the fuck is going on?" he demanded loudly. "Who the hell are you?" He looked at the fag, collared and leashed like an animal, almost naked and freshly fucked in both holes, still reeking of my cum. "Evan? What the actual fuck, dude? Who's this guy, and what's happening? I thought you had some chick in there!" "Ah," I said, "you must be Cody. I've heard a lot about you." I stuck out my hand, but didn't give him my name. Despite his confusion, he reached out and shook my hand, more from habit than anything else. "I know this must be a bit shocking for you, but I guess it's time you knew the truth. Don't you agree, fuckhole?" I asked, jerking the fag's leash. He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes glued to the floor, his entire body bright red from the shame and humiliation of his oldest friend seeing him this way. "Evan? What's he talking about?" Cody asked. He was beginning to go from confused to angry. "You see, Cody, your buddy here has been hiding some secrets from you, haven't you pussyboy?" I jerked his leash again. The fag nodded silently. "He's not a man like you and me, Cody. He's a faggot. Not just a faggot, though. He's a full-fledged cockpig. A cumdump. In fact, he's got a big load of my cum deep in his ass right now, don't you faggot?" The faggot was crying now, though whether with shame or relief at the truth finally coming out I couldn't tell. He slowly nodded, acknowledging the truth of my last statement. "Look, asshole," Cody said menacingly, "I don't know what you've been doing to him, but this shit stops now. He's not a fag. I don't know, maybe you're blackmailing him or something like that, but you aren't gonna hurt him or lead him around on some fucking leash! I'll kick your ass!" Cody moved toward me like he planned to get right in my face. He was very aggressive, quite the young alpha male. I could easily see why the faggot adored him as much as he did. Cody, however, wasn't much of threat to me. I had him by a good six inches and least forty pounds, not to mention years of experience. "Quit getting so worked up, Cody," I said calmly, taking charge of the situation. "He hasn't been blackmailed at all. No one has forced the faggot to do anything he didn't want to do. Hell, some of the nasty shit he's done, he actually begged to do. I have plenty of video of it, if you'd like to see it. Great video of him sucking cock, getting fucked, licking my boots, plus other nasty things you don't want to know about. He's a faggot pig, and he's wants to serve a real man." I tightened up my grip on the faggot's leash. "Drop those shorts. Show Cody your cage, pussyboy." Slowly, the faggot put down the box of his belongings, then lowered his shorts. More tears as he displayed his locked genitals to his best friend. The look on Cody's face when he saw the chastity cage was one of shock, along with dawning comprehension. His disbelief began to fade. No man would allow himself to be locked into something like that willingly. Not even if he were being blackmailed. I snapped my fingers. "Show Cody what a good bootlicker you are, bitch." The fag slowly sank to his knees and stuck out his tongue, running it across the leather of my boots. I could see a look of disgust come across Cody's face. The truth had finally hit home. I reached down and pulled the faggot's shorts down further, exposing the plug up his hole for Cody. "This is what he is. This is the life he needs and wants. Nothing forced about it. The faggot chose this," I told him. "And it benefits you, too, Cody. Yeah, you have to find a new roommate, but the good news is that this fag won't need much. I have a cage waiting for him to live in, so all his furniture is being left here. You can keep it or sell it if you want. Same with his car. It's a piece of shit, but it's yours now," I said, tossing him the faggot's keys. "What do you say? Would you like him to lick your shoes to say goodbye?" "No. Just get that freak out of my house. Both of you. Go. I don't ever want to see that queer again," Cody replied, a sneer on his face. He turned and walked into his bedroom, slamming the door. "Just as well, pussyboy. Now you don't have to worry about anyone looking for you. And it's always better to be honest, don't you think?" I pulled him up by his leash, allowing him to pull up his shorts and grab what little he still possessed in the single box. He was still crying, true, but he was also still obedient. I pulled down the front of his shorts momentarily. Sure enough, his little drain was still filling its cage, as hard as it could get inside its small plastic prison. I led the faggot out to my car on his leash, then ordered him to put his box of stuff in my front floorboard. When I opened the trunk, the bitch didn't even hesitate; he climbed inside as if he expected it. It was going to be a long ride to his new home. Two hours for him to think about the loss of his old life, and what his new life would entail. ***************************************************************************** Thank you to all who have written to me with feedback about this story! Your interest inspires me. Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-cockpig/the-cockpig-1

Date: Mon, 21 Sep 2020 00:20:23 -0400 From: jeff Hamby Subject: The Cockpig 1 This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Warning: This story contains sexual acts between adult males If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relation to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction. I would love to hear your feedback or ideas for this story! Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to keep Nifty in business! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html The Cockpig Chapter 1 Cockpig (noun) 1. A subspecies of Homo Sapiens, a cockpig is a subhuman variant, socially ranked below beta males, females, and animals. Cockpigs are born to serve and obey superior males, worship cocks, and suffer. Naturally submissive and inferior, their normal habitat is at the feet of an alpha male. The cockpig came to me a virgin. Never been fucked. Never sucked cock. I know that's hard to imagine, looking at it now. It's hard to even imagine it as a person, walking around free, making its own decisions and interacting with others as an equal, but that's what it was like when we met. It's been a long, slow process to get it to what you see now, this thing that grovels at my feet, waiting for whatever I choose to do with it. When we met, the cockpig was a timid, needy young fag. It had a name, but I don't really recall what it was. Evan, Eric, Ethan...something like that. He hit me up on Recon after reading my profile. Told me how much he wanted to serve me, how much he needed to grovel, all that stuff. The usual online BS from needy faggots. Most are flakes, just looking to get all hot and bothered and beat their useless little dicklets. I figured this was more of the same, but he didn't go away. Kept sending me these messages, begging for the chance to serve. So, I gave him my phone number and we started texting. Had the little fag send me some videos of him with his naked ass in the air - showing me his hole, fucking himself with his fingers, then sucking them clean while looking dead at the camera. When he didn't hesitate at sticking his own ass-covered fingers in his mouth, I knew he had potential He had the look I like as well: 20 years old, about 5'6, with a slight build and a nice tight little bubble butt. High cheek bones and full lips, he has one of those innocent faces that looks so great with fear written across it, and even better with desperate need. And red hair. I do love a ginger. He had that pale skin with a sprinkling of freckles like most gingers, the kind that takes color from a beating so easily. The kid didn't have much going for him, other than his looks. His family was poor and didn't put much stock education, so he barely finished high school and never gave college a thought. His best job prospect, working at the local factory like his dad, disappeared when the economy tanked and the factory closed. He managed to find one menial job after another. No future in it, but he made just enough to pay for a shitty apartment he shared with a friend from high school and a beat-up old car. He was scared. Most virgins are, especially ones that remain virgins as late as he had, always pretending they are "too busy" for sex or some other bullshit excuse, when in reality they are too scared of their own desires to have sex with anyone but themselves, until finally the need becomes so strong they bust out of their shell, sometimes in a dramatic fashion. I kept talking to him, making him beg, giving him duties to perform each day. Each day I became more demanding, his duties more degrading. Edge yourself on cam while telling me what you want me to do to you. Buy a dildo, fuck yourself with it, and send me the video. Go lick your toilet clean and send me a pic of you doing it. Piss in a glass and drink it live on cam. He begged me over and over again to promise I wouldn't show the pics or videos to anyone. Sure, he balked at some of it. That didn't surprise me. But all I had to do was ignore him for a few days, and his need to serve a real man overcame his fear and disgust. Sure enough, he'd come back and grovel on cam, begging for another chance. Once I overcame some of his initial reluctance, I decided he was trainable. I had an old cock cage and padlock I sent him in the mail, then ordered him to put it on for me live on Skype. He was reluctant, of course, since I didn't send him the key, but finally obeyed. The moment he heard that padlock click into place, and knew that shit just got real, was a big step for him. After I had the pussyboy locked, I started retraining his mind. Making him refer to himself as "it" instead of "I". Explained to him that the little locked up nub between his legs wasn't a cock and should never be referred to as such. No, real men have cocks. Cocks are for fucking, I explained. Since he wasn't a man, and was never going to fuck anything, that nub wasn't anything but a drain. Once he started calling it that, I could see in his eyes that the mental transformation was starting to happen. Every time he had to sit to take a piss because of the cage, he was thinking of me, thinking about what I was making him into. I kept him locked up without any release for almost a month. For a faggot used to jerking off two times a day, it was a powerful lesson: his pleasure didn't matter. Only mine did, and his increasing need was what pleased me. I could see the desperation in his eyes each evening when we Skyped; I could hear the need in his voice. His feeble little faggot mind was wrestling between his need to cum and his need to please and obey. Then came his first real test: I gave him orders to come spend a long weekend with me. He lived about two hours away, so it was a good chance for me to test whether his pathetic need was enough to overcome his fear. I gave him directions meet at a shopping center near my house, and sent him a nice big butt plug, with instructions to wear it for the trip down. Nothing like a long drive with a stuffed, stretched hole and full balls to put a faggot in exactly the right mindset. The little pig was prompt, I'll give him that. He texted me when he arrived. I was deliberately half an hour late, giving him time to sweat and wrestle with his decision to meet me. I wanted to see if he would stay or run back home before I arrived. He stayed. I'd ordered him to park in the edge of the lot, near the main road. When I pulled up, I told him to get out of his car and stand by my window so I could inspect him. Before he left home, I gave him specific instructions on what to wear: a small green tank top that barely covered his belly, some red spandex shorts, and flip flops. Nothing else. Nothing to cover up his body. Nothing to make him look decent if he had to stop somewhere and use the bathroom. Standing there in the parking lot next to my window, dressed like a slut and clutching his cell phone, wallet, and keys, he looked exactly like a little fuckboy, all right. Those spandex shorts were designed as underwear and hugged every inch of his virgin ass. They clearly showed off the outlines of the cage locked on his little drain, including the padlock which secured it. Anyone that saw him standing there in the lot would easily be able to see his dicklet was under lock and key. He turned bright red from his head to his toes, standing there in public on display. I could see his ass cheeks clinch from the stress, squeezing the plug and adding to his discomfort. He was so nervous he couldn't make eye contact, which was fine by me. I let him stand there for a bit while I looked him over from the driver's seat of my car, instructing him to turn this way and that, then bend over, so I could see the bottom of the plug profile against the spandex. Made him take off the tank top and leave it in his car. He turned even redder, being so exposed right next to a busy road. I could see some of the passersby staring at him -- and, more importantly, he could see them staring, too. But the little bitch didn't run. He stood there like an obedient cunt and did what I told him to do. The need to obey was already that strong. Just the way I wanted it. I finally ordered him to get in my car. Once inside, I told him to lose the shorts and flip flops. "Here? In public?" he asked, the fear is his eyes growing. I was afraid the little bitch would piss himself right there on my seat. "Yes, pussyboy. Here. Now. Get `em off. Hurry the fuck up and don't make me tell you again, faggot." He kicked off his flip flops, then peeled off the spandex shorts, sitting there bare as the day he was born...except for my padlocked cage on his drain. "Give me your car keys, wallet, and cell phone, fag." He handed them over obediently. I'd forbidden him to bring anything else, even a toothbrush. He certainly wouldn't be needing anything, and I wanted him completely stripped of any belongings, of any connections, of anything except what I gave him. Reshaping a faggot's mind -- it's a slow, relentless process. I handed him a black spandex hood and ordered him to put it on. It covered his entire head except his mouth, cutting off his sight but still allowing him to hear and breathe. I loved the way it hugged the contours of his face. Once he could no longer see, his anxiety was on a rollercoaster; lack of sight made him relax, but then his mind started visualizing what was about to happen, and his fear would spike. I looked down as I was driving back to my house, and his little nub was as hard as the cage would let it get, painfully straining against that hard plastic and completely filling the cage. I took the long way back to my house. Got on the freeway for one exit, just to confuse him about where I lived, and impress on his mind that he had no idea where he was, or how to get back to the safety of his car. Once inside my garage, I removed his hood and ordered him out of the car and on to his knees. I padlocked a leather collar around his neck, attached a leash, and led him, crawling like an animal, into my house. I moved the coffee table out of the way and put the faggot in the middle of the living room on his knees, with his pretty little pale ass in the air and his face on the ground. Just like he was worshipping me. Which he would be, in due time. I could hear his breathing increase. He was nervous, but needy. I walked around him looking at him from all angles, then ordered him to his feet. "Clasp your hands behind your head faggot. Spread your legs. Wider. Head up, eyes down. This is the `inspection' position. Nothing hidden from anyone that wants to see it." He quickly complied, and I saw him turning beet red again from embarrassment. He'd never had a man examine him like this. And examining him I was, running my hands all over his body, pinching his big nipples to see just how sensitive they were. From his facial expression, they were connected directly to his useless drain. Good. I had plans for them. "Did it clean out its hole before it left home like it was told, fuckboy?" I asked him. "Yes Sir! It did its best, Sir!" he responded. "Well, better hope it did a good job, fag, or it will regret it very quickly. Back down on the ground and put that ass in the air again." He returned to his previous position, and I reached between his firm ass cheeks and grabbed the base of the plug. I slowly started turning it inside his ass, listening to him groan. Then, in one quick movement, I pulled the plug out of his hole. It came out of his virgin hole with an audible `pop', like I was pulling a cork from a bottle. He squealed and gasped, just like I wanted him to, overwhelmed with both the pain and the sudden emptiness inside him. I walked around to his head and grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up. "Open your mouth, fuckboy," I commanded. He obeyed like a good bitch, opening his mouth for whatever I decided to put in it. I brought up the butt plug I was still holding, fresh from his ass, and stuck it between his lips. He immediately tried to pull back and spit it out, but I increased my grip on his hair and shoved harder, until he had no choice but to stretch his mouth as wide as possible to get the butt plug between his teeth. "Be glad that's a small plug, faggot. I hope your ass was clean. Whether it was or not, that plug better be shiny and clean as a whistle when it comes of your mouth, " I told him. His cheeks were bulging as the plug stretched out his jaw, and despite the look of disgust on his face, I could see his tongue moving around inside his mouth, cleaning the lube and his ass off the plug. While the faggot was cleaning off my plug, I took the opportunity to test out his tits. Big, perky tits, nice and dark, set on a set of small but firm pecs. The tits were dark enough to really stand out against his pale, lightly freckled skin. They were already standing at attention, and just a little tweaking and pinching turned them bright red, almost matching the fag's hair. Each pinch elicited an interesting squeal from the pig and made his chastity cage bounce as his little drain throbbed. Interesting...I'd find plenty of uses for those tits later, I thought. "Back on your knees, cunt." He dropped to his knees, putting his head right at my crotch. Time to introduce this bitch to what faggots were really for. I grabbed the end of the plug and eased it out of his mouth, then pressed his head against the front of my jeans. I let him get a good whiff of my cock through my pants and feel the outline of my erection. Up to this point, I hadn't allowed him to see my cock, not even a picture. "Dream about it, fag," I'd told him. He knew it was big, and he knew it was going inside him, but that was all. Now, it was time for him to become better acquainted with what would soon be the center of his pathetic little world. My cock is big. Like, real big. I've got big hands, and I can wrap both of them around the shaft of my cock and the head is still visible. It's not just the length that hurts the bitches I fuck, it's also the girth. Big and thick, it never fails to make a fag squeal like a pig when I ram it home. Usually they feel it for a few days afterwards, too. At least, that's what the experienced fuckboys that have taken it have told me. For a virgin like my soon-to-be cockpig, it was going to open him up in ways he couldn't even imagine. I pulled my cock and balls out of the fly of my jeans and smacked him in the face with my dick. Let him not only get a good look at the size but also feel the weight of it against his face. Then I started rubbing it on his pretty, terrified face. "This is going inside you, bitch," I told him. "Every inch of it. In both your holes. Today. It's time you learned what it means to be a real man's cumdump. Now, be a good cocksucker and open wide. No, wider than that, little pig. That's barely wide enough to get the head in. All the way open...yeah, really stretch that jaw. Good. Now stick out your tongue, you're about to taste cock for the first time." He had his mouth open as wide as he could, his tongue reaching out as far as it would go, trying to touch the cock held just out of reach. Then, I laid it on his tongue, and started my slow invasion of his mouth. Relentlessly, I pushed forward, forcing him to breath around my dick, my hand gripping the hair on top of his head to keep him from pulling away. He was a natural cocksucker. Started using his tongue right away, without even being told. Suddenly, I pulled my cock out of his mouth and slapped the hell out of him, knocking him over. "Watch those teeth, fag. I feel any teeth again, I'm going to knock them out of your worthless head, got it? Now get this cock down your throat and do it right this time." I'll give the bitch this: he didn't have to be hit more than once. He quickly got back on his knees and shoved his head down on my dick almost to my balls. I could see a large red imprint of my hand on the side of his face, and tears rolling down his cheeks, but he didn't stop trying to choke himself on my meat. I didn't even have to hold his head. He impaled his throat on the length of my shaft, swallowing and regurgitating every inch of it over and over. He gagged once or twice, but never pulled off, quickly learning to breath through his nose while his throat was filled, sucking on it like his life depended on getting my cum. Watch this brand-new cocksucker crying while force feeding himself his first dick was too much. I grabbed him by his hair and painted his tonsils with my load, holding his head in place until I was sure he'd swallowed every drop. Slowly, I withdrew from his mouth. I noticed a single drop of cum on the end of my dick, but, instead of making him lick it off, I rubbed it off on his upper lip and left it to dry there, to make sure he smelled my cum for the rest of the night every time he took a breath. "Not too bad for your first time, cocksucker. Don't worry...we're just getting started."

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-cockpig/the-cockpig-4

Date: Sat, 7 Nov 2020 15:15:51 -0500 From: Jeff Hamby <jeffhamby1025@gmail.com> Subject: The Cockpig 4 his story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Copyright 2020 by Jeff Hamby. All rights reserved. Warning: This story contains sexual acts between adult males If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relation to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction. If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to keep Nifty in business! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html The Cockpig Chapter 4 That first weekend I fucked the faggot a lot. Pretty much the entire time he was with me he had a load of my cum inside him, either deep up his ass or filling his belly. I made sure to keep a good bit of it on his face, too. I wanted him to smell it constantly, to know it was there at all times, an ever-present reminder of what he was used for and his main purpose in life -- being a man's cumdump. He was supposed to head home Sunday morning, but I still had some training in mind for the pussyboy. I woke up early with my usual piss hardon tenting the sheets. The pussyboy was sleeping soundly on the floor next to the bed. Not that he had any choice, of course: I'd put a tight, locking ball stretcher around his useless nuts, then chained them to the leg of the bed. Just enough chain to keep him in place, but not enough for him to go anywhere. I wanted to reinforce in his little cum-drenched brain that he was property, controlled even when he slept. Apparently, he was so tired from being used that he was actually able to sleep on the hard floor, more likely from exhaustion than anything else. I grabbed the keys from the night stand and unlocked the chain, then jerked on it hard, waking the pussyboy up abruptly as his nuts were yanked. It's a great way for a faggot to wake up: with a man casually inflicting pain, suffering from the first moment, knowing that's how its day will continue if its owner so desires. Once the cunt was awake, I reeled in the chain until he climbed on the bed. I put him to work licking my erection. I think he realized it was about to go in his ass, because he slobbered on it a lot, trying to get it very wet so it wouldn't tear his hole when I fucked him. I hate using lube. Dry fucking a faggot can be so much more satisfying. I love to make pigs squeal, and that's a great way to do it. When you've got a cock the size of mine, though, you have to be careful not to damage the property, especially one as new and inexperienced as this bitch. That's why I usually go for some throat lube when I fuck. I reached down and grabbed the pussyboy's tits and pulled him up and on to my cock. I just loved the look on his face as he impaled himself on my rod, trying to ease it in slowly, working hard to accommodate the mass of flesh inside him. During those early days, he always tried to get it to slide in slowly. Obviously, that couldn't be allowed. Once he was positioned just right and trying to relax on to my cock, just when it was positioned to be stretching his sphincter the most, the time that required him to relax the most to get in it, I pinched his tits really hard. Got a squeal every time. He'd also clinch his asshole around my cock nice and tight, his body trying to force the invader back out. That's when I'd thrust my hips into him, ramming my cock home, holding his body in place with my grip on his nipples. That didn't get a squeal. That always got a gasp, sometimes a scream, all of it music to my ears. The faggot would go completely rigid as he was impaled. Suddenly, the cock he'd been trying to ease through his anal ring was buried deep in his guts, way up in that second sphincter at the far end of his rectum. Some faggots really love getting a cock up their ass. They love being fucked by a man. You can tell from the look on their face when it's happening, a look of pure ecstasy. Not my cockpig, though. Not then, not even now. His look is completely different. I'm sure he gets some pleasure from it, but the look of agony on his sweet young face has never changed from the first time I fucked him until now. Regardless of whose cock is in his hole, his expression is always one of pain, mixed with something in his eyes that says, "I hate this. I need this. I deserve it." I made the pussyboy ride my cock slowly for a while, forcing himself up and down on it. I liked having gravity help get my cock deeper inside his body. By now I'd managed to stretch his hole out to perfectly fit my cock like it was tailor-made for me. But I also had other plans, so I finally let go of his tits and grabbed his legs. I spun him around facing away from me, not bothering to remove my cock from his hole. Ever seen a faggot have a big, thick cock rotated inside him? It stretches the hole in unique ways, adding a new level of pain to the fucking. It made the pussyboy gasp and squeal, which just made my cock throb in his ass all the more. Once I had him positioned, I used my cock and hips to shove him forward until his head was off the edge of the bed and his ass was up in the air. He was gripping the side of the bed, trying to keep from falling, but I had a firm grip on his hips. As tight as his hole was hugging my cock, I probably could have held him there with just my dick. I rammed him good, giving his hole one of the hardest fuckings of the entire weekend. The pussyboy was crying and squealing from the pounding I was giving his guts, until I finally filled him with another load of my cum. I held the pussyboy in place after I came, waiting for my cock to soften some. As soon as it did, I released my morning piss deep inside him, giving him an enema of my own personal fluid. When he realized what was happening, the faggot began to pant and whine like a wounded puppy. He'd grown prepared in the last few days for me to use his mouth as my urinal, but apparently it never occurred to the stupid bitch I could use his ass that way as well. I always have a full bladder first thing in the morning, so I really put a lot of piss up his hole. When I was finished, I slowly pulled my cock out until only the head was inside his hole. "Not a drop, bitch. Don't you lose one fucking drop of that piss, especially not on my bed," I warned. The faggot clenched his ass the best he could after the coring out I'd just given him. After I pulled my cock out completely, I ordered him to stay like a good dog while I got a nice large butt plug. A big fat one, just perfect for sealing up his hole and keeping all my piss and cum inside him. I allowed him to spit on the plug before I shoved it in, since I was feeling generous. Once he was securely plugged, I ordered the bitch on to the floor where he belonged. To his credit, I didn't have to tell him what to do: he leaned in and started cleaning my cock, licking off the piss, cum and ass slime. He even licked my balls for good measure, making sure to clean off any ball sweat which had accumulated while I slept. I watched his face carefully so I could see when the cramps started. It took a little while, but when they hit, it was easy to see. "Time for breakfast, faggot. Coffee and a cheese omelet. Get busy," I said, snapping my fingers. He crawled away towards the kitchen, his little drain still hard as a rock. The view as he crawled away was exquisite -- that small, perfect, pale ass of his, still showing red marks from my fingers where I'd held on to him as I fucked him; the base of that big plug spreading his cheeks apart, and his stretched nuts dangling and swinging as he crawled. Not putting him back in the chastity cage yet had definitely been a good idea. After I threw on some shorts and a shirt, I followed the faggot down to the kitchen. He was cooking my breakfast, occasionally groaning and gripping his belly as the cramps twisted his guts. He was hopping back and forth from one foot to the other, trying to hold everything inside him. Now and then I could actually hear my piss sloshing around inside him. It was so amusing I decided to leave him that way until after breakfast. Besides, it was great training for the faggot. It clearly communicated the message I wanted to send -- my pleasure, needs, and desires are paramount; your suffering means nothing. I wanted him to fully grasp the fact that, no matter how badly he needed to empty his bowels, it was nothing compared to the importance of making me a nice breakfast and allowing me to enjoy it in peace. While I ate, the pussyboy cleaned my feet and sucked my toes, not just because I enjoy it, but because I wanted his ass high in the air, so that all that piss inside him sloshed around good. The cramps were really getting to him. I could tell from the high-pitched whining noises he kept making. "One more sound from you, fuckhole, and I'd adding a full enema bag to what's already inside you. Then you go in the cage. Plugged," I told him, barely interrupting my breakfast. Silence. Just the sound of him slobbering on my toes. He was even crying silently. His training was clearly taking hold. After breakfast, I grabbed a leash and attached it to the faggot, then led him out to the back yard, to the spot where I'd made him do his business. He was rocking from knee to knee, anxious for me to pull the plug. The cramps and his desperation had outweighed his shame at last. Perfect. "Well, faggot? Do you need to do your business? Need to piss and shit?" I asked, holding his leash in my hand. "Oh, yes Sir! Please, Sir! It hurts so bad, Sir! Please, please, please Sir!" he begged. "No fag," I replied. "If you're going to shit like an animal, beg like one." Reinforcement of status and role. It's essential to training a cockpig. The fag immediately bent down and starting licking my feet, whining like a dog that wants to go out, while I got my phone out. I finally reached over and snatched the plug out of his hole, then gave him permission to release what was inside of him. I have some wonderful video of him squatting there like a beast, my piss, cum and his own waste flowing out of his ass, a look of blissful relief on his face, mixed with a deep blush of shame. Ordinarily, I'd never let a faggot waste a load of my cum and piss like that. But it was important to train the pussyboy that I controlled his body and his most private bodily functions; that he had no privacy, even for something like this. It was more important than anything else to have him here, pissing and shitting in the yard on the end of a leash, observed and supervised by a real man. There would be time for the other stuff later. This was vital to reshaping the bitch's mind and self-image. Training like this carved away years of social programming, replacing it with an imprint of his new, truer existence, like a brand in his mind which he could never remove nor hide, even from himself. When he was done, I hosed the fuckboy off, then left him outside on his leash to dry. We were approaching time for him to leave. I retrieved his chastity cage from the basement, then brought the bitch inside. He knelt in the living room floor while I filled a metal mixing bowl with ice, then added some water and brought it back with me. I knew he was horny. He'd been in that cage for a month, and the only time he'd cum was the first evening with me, when he spontaneously shot his load while I whipped his virgin hole with my belt. Other than that, nothing. Not even a wet dream. I'd made the pussyboy keep careful track of each frustrated erection and report the number to me at the end of each day when we talked, along with any wet dreams he'd had. This exercise kept him constantly aware of his little drain being locked away, as if the cage didn't do a good enough job of that. It also helped to remind him daily of what he had lost, what was no longer an option for him. See, a lot of men, when they lock a faggot in chastity, they just leave them like that. Problem is, the bitch quickly becomes accustomed to the cage. After a month or so, he gets so used to being horny all the time, it becomes the new normal. Chastity loses some of its effectiveness -- the longing for release goes away, and the burning need becomes more of a dull ache he gets used to and begins to cope with, then ignore. I don't allow that, of course. You can't, not if you are working to reshape a faggot's mind as well as behavior. I went over to the front door where I keep my shoes and boots. I chose a nice heavy pair of combat boots, the pair I like wearing the most. Since the faggot still had the ball stretcher locked on his nuts, I figured they should be put to good use. "Stand up and spread your legs, fuckhole," I ordered. Once he was properly positioned, I tied my boots to his nuts. "Not completely useless anymore, are they, pig?" I smirked. Once they were securely attached, I dropped them, jerking his balls hard and eliciting another squeal and groan from the fag. "Now, fuckhole, we're going to play a little game," I said, handing him the bowl of ice water. "I'm going to stroke that little drain between its legs. Why? Because its mine and I fucking choose to, that's why. However, it doesn't have permission to cum. It will not cum under any circumstances, is that clear, cumdump?" He nodded his head, fear in his eyes. We both knew what a challenge this would be for the pussyboy. At his age, those balls fill up fast, and the need to cum, when it hits, burns red hot. Control was never his strong point, anyway. Before I made him lock himself up, he came twice a day without fail, sometimes more. His balls had never been this full before, and any relief he'd gotten from his spontaneous orgasm that first night had faded away. I probably could have gotten him to shoot with just a couple of strokes if that was what I wanted. "If it cums, we're done. Forever, faggot. I'll beat its ass until it can hardly walk, then dump it out at its car and never speak to it again. I have zero use for fags that put their own pleasure above my orders. Got it, pissbreath?" "Yes, Sir, it understands," he said, practically a whisper. I grabbed the lube from the coffee table, and put a big glob in my hand. "Now, fuckhole, if it thinks it might cum, it will use that bowl of ice water to stop itself. It better pull out of my hand and soak its drain until the feeling passes, got it?" He nodded. I grabbed his little nub, which was still hard as steel. These young fags, they are always so horny, their drains standing at attention. I slowly began to stroke him, giving special attention to the head of his nub, where it is most sensitive. The faggot didn't have much meat between his legs, but that didn't matter. It wasn't good for anything anyway. I like a faggot with a small drain. All those nerve endings packed so close together makes them extra sensitive, just perfect for torture. Plus, it saved me time working to shrink it down. With faggots that have big drains, it can be great training to keep them locked away without erection until they begin to lose size permanently, while always reminding them they are becoming even less nominally male that they already were. Really fucks with their heads in the best possible way. I stroked him exactly four times before he pulled away and plunged his little nub into the ice water. Must have stung like hell from the sound he made. Freezing cold water isn't conducive to an erection, that's for sure. Still, it took him about two minutes of icing his dicklet before he was able to present it to me again safely. He was so adorable, biting his lip, swaying from foot to foot as I stroked him back to erection, each move making my boots swing and stretch his balls more. We did this for about half an hour. Edging him, bringing him right to the point of orgasm, but then denying him. I wanted those balls throbbing like never before, swollen and blue with unspent cum. The perfect condition for the faggot's two-hour drive home. I finally made him leave his drain in the ice water until he was fully soft, I removed my boots and the ball stretcher, then put the chastity cage back on him. The first time it was locked on, I made him do it on Skype. Psychologically, I wanted him to know he'd done this to himself, even if it was on my order. As he got progressively hornier, and his burning need for release grew and turned to desperation, I wanted him to remember he was responsible for his condition, that he chose this. Now, I had a different message for him as I personally clicked the lock in place: this is my property, and I do with it whatever I want. Once he was locked up again, I reattached his leash and plugged his hole with the butt plug he'd worn on the drive down from his place. I led him back outside. I needed to piss again, and he needed a souvenir for the long ride home. I had him drink some of my piss, so he'd have the taste of it lingering in his mouth, but most of it I used to hose him down good, especially his hair and face. I wanted his car to be filled with the smell of my piss. I was training him as my urinal, and I wanted him to spend those two hours smelling like one. With luck, his roommate would be home when he arrived, stinking like a men's restroom, his ass plugged, dressed like a slut with his chastity cage profiling through his spandex shorts. There is nothing like being exposed to your best friend for what you really are to change a faggot's self-image for good. Once enough piss dripped off the bitch that he wouldn't contaminate my car too much, I grabbed his leash and led him over to the trunk. He looked stunned when I ordered him to crawl in. "I don't need a toilet stinking up my car, pissbreath," I explained. I wish I had a picture of the look on his face as I was shutting the trunk. I drove him back to the shopping center where he'd parked a few days before, his car right near the front of the lot, next to the busy roadway. I made sure to park so the trunk would be in full view of both the road and the traffic in and out of the lot. Slaves can't be shy. Shyness has to be trained out of them step by step. I grabbed the fag's tiny Spandex underwear and flip flops from the front floorboard where he'd left them on the ride to my house. When I opened the trunk and the sunlight hit the pussyboy, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. He squealed and started hyperventilating, covering his little drain and cage in case anyone could see him. The stench of piss coming off of him was powerful. I tossed the shorts to him. "Get dressed, bootlicker. Time to go." He squirmed around until he got into the skintight Spandex, then crawled out of the trunk. I could see people driving by staring at him, and I'm sure he saw them, too. He did another one of those full body blushes I loved so much, standing there in full view of the road and the busy shopping center, naked except for a padlocked leather slave collar, a pair of very small Spandex underwear which showed off every curve of his ass, and some flip flops. The padlock and outline of his chastity cage were both clearly visible. He looked exactly like what he was: a faggot fuckhole. Obviously, I took my time unlocking his collar. I wanted to give him ample time to see the decent people doing their grocery shopping staring at him. As soon as his collar was unlocked, I left him standing there while I unlocked the console and retrieved his cell phone, wallet, and car keys. "Show your appreciation for my time and training, cunt. Kiss my feet and say goodbye," I ordered. He stared at me for a second, like he couldn't believe I'd make him do such a thing in such a public place. I glared right back at him, drilling my gaze into those deep blue puppy dog eyes of his, making sure he could see I was completely serious, that I expected obedience without question. He dropped his gaze, blushed again even deeper, then sank to his knees right there in the parking lot. The little fuckhole started kissing my boots and thanking me for training him. I finally dropped his keys next to his head. "It will text me when it arrives home." With that, I turned and got in my car and drove off, leaving the faggot on his knees nearly naked next to the road. I'm sure it was a long and unpleasant ride home for the faggot. That's exactly what I intended. He couldn't even stop to get a drink to wash the taste of my piss out of his mouth, since he reeked of it and had no other clothes with him. It was time for the faggot's final test. The big one. The one that mattered the most. This one, however, he had to take alone. This one took place completely in his own head. And it began with that long drive back home, stinking of my piss, sore inside and out from my abuse, his well-fucked hole plugged, his nub locked away and his balls sore, swollen, and aching for release. What happened next was critical to his training, and would help determine the course of the rest of his life. But it all had to happen in his mind, starting with that long drive where he contemplated what had happened to him and decided what it meant. He texted me when he arrived home. I told him to strip, right then, and give me a video Skype call. I wanted him fresh from the drive, still reeking of my piss. Once we were connected, I made him display his hole so I could make sure he was still plugged, which he was. I asked if his roommate was home. The faggot blushed again and hung his head. He was, it seemed, and the pussyboy had made a mad dash to his bedroom without explaining his appearance. He told he didn't know what he would tell Cody (that was his roommate and best friend), but he'd think of something. I suggested he tell him the truth, and he blushed even deeper than before. Then I laid it out for the faggot. "Listen closely, cumdump. This is the last time we are going to talk for a while. You've got some thinking to do, and some decisions to make. You've seen what I'm like. You've got a good taste of what serving me means, and it only gets more intense from here, fuckhole. So, you have to decide if this is what you really want or not. Only you know what's inside you. You are the only one that can figure out what you need most. You can stay there and live that nothing life you've got, and take whatever life hands you; or, you can go for what you say you really want, what you keep telling me you crave so badly -- you can become my property. Like we've discussed, that's all you'll ever be to me: property. No limits. No rights. No choices. If you decide to belong to me, that's the last choice you'll get to make. Ever. Understand me, pig?" He nodded. "Yes, Sir." "Good. You have a lot of soul-searching to do, cumdump, and an important decision to make. I won't accept half measures, nor anything less than full and total commitment. So, take your time. As long as you need. If you decide to commit, though, that's it. It's done and final." I paused, letting him digest that. "If you decide you want me to, I'll send you the key to the chastity cage. I'll overnight it to you, fag. You can remove it and go back to jerking your little nub all you want. If you choose that, I'll send you a box so you can ship the cage back to me. We'll be done. If you decide you don't want to commit, we are done. You'll never hear from me again, and you can continue to pretend you are a normal human, trying to convince everyone you are a man. We will always know differently though, won't be pissbreath?" He hung his head. "Yes, Sir, we will." "OK, cunt. That's it. Don't contact me again until you've made up your mind one way or the other. Dismissed." With that, I hung up. See, this is the critical part. The physical transformation of a slave is the easy part. True transformation takes place internally, as the faggot comes to the slow and complete realization that being a subhuman slave isn't something he wants, it's something he simply is. Something that is an inherent part of him which can't be denied any longer. It's a tough thing for a cockpig to accept, this concept that it is truly inferior, truly born to serve. Once a faggot really grasps that, finally comes to terms with it, you'd be amazed as how much relief he experiences. Happiness comes from fulfilling one's true calling, and for a born cockpig, that means serving real men and worshiping cock, no matter what that requires. That's where my little ginger faggot was at, mentally wrestling with those concepts and his own internal identity. For me, this is the toughest part as well. There is nothing I can do to make it happen. I'd laid all the groundwork needed to complete the faggot's transformation. He had to find the rest within himself. He had to make the commitment willingly, even beg for it. I don't have any interest in slaves that have to be captured or forced. I want the real faggots, the ones that are born with the need for cock, for degradation, for abuse. I felt the little ginger bitch was a perfect candidate. The question was, did he have the courage to live his truth or not? A week passed with no word. I began to wonder about the pussyboy. He hadn't asked for the key to the cage, though, which was a good sign. I figured he would break quickly. A week should have been about right for him. I was wrong, which is pretty rare. It took three weeks before he texted me. "PLEASE SIR OWN IT FOREVER." Which was exactly what I intended to do. ***************************************************************************** Thank you to all who have written to me with feedback about this story! You interest inspires me. Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com

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Date: Mon, 2 Nov 2020 21:30:00 -0500 From: Jeff Hamby <jeffhamby1025@gmail.com> Subject: The Cockpig 3 This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Copyright 2020 by Jeff Hamby. All rights reserved. Warning: This story contains sexual acts between adult males If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relation to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction. If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to keep Nifty in business! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Special thanks to J.H. for his inspiration The Cockpig Chapter 3 Let me tell you a basic fact about faggots: they live in constant fear. That fear begins the first time they realize, secretly, deep down in their hearts, that they are inferior. When they first realize they are different from real men. It's the fear of being found out, of being recognized as an inferior. Fear of their own desires, that need for cock burning inside them. Fear of being exposed for what they really are. But more than that: it's fear of their own need to be dominated, controlled, used, degraded. They don't just want to worship men's cocks -- they need to, on a deep primal level. It becomes their main motivation and drive. That's what sets a true cockpig apart from real men: the inborn need to serve and obey their betters, no matter how degrading the experience or rough the treatment. They recognize that need in themselves early on. Even if they can't admit to it anyone, they know that need is there, that craving that won't go away. They think about it all the time, hoping for a man to use them, wishing and praying for the abuse they need, while at the same time ashamed of their own desires. Some people say I'm cruel, that I'm abusive to the cockpig or other faggots I've used, but that's not true. I've never forced anyone to do anything. Trust me, every disgusting act and degradation the cockpig has been subjected to, it participated in willingly. That's the key; that's the mark of a true subhuman cockpig, you see. To it, real abuse would be denying it the chance to serve, to grovel, to debase itself for my amusement or the amusement of my friends. That first night the faggot slept on my floor, I heard him toss and turn throughout the night, trying to get comfortable, trying to find some position where the hard floor wasn't making his sore ass and legs hurt more. I knew he would have a hard time sleeping, especially with those welts on his ass and his freshly fucked hole damn near turned inside-out. Good. I wanted the fag tired. I wanted him to sleep poorly, so that his exhaustion would work in my favor. The brain is more malleable when sleep deprived, as well as more suggestible. Training a faggot means reshaping his thoughts, reforming his self-image into what I want it to be. An image that better reflects on the outside what the faggot feels inside. But that requires breaking through a lot of mental barriers and societal programming. Lack of sleep is an excellent tool for training faggots. The fag was already awake when I got up, lying there on the floor with his eyes open, his pathetic little drain straining against the chastity cage. He looked up at me with a look that was a combination of adoration and fear. That's exactly where I wanted him mentally. After I threw on some shorts, I grabbed a leash and attached it to the faggot's collar. "Heel!" I ordered, and started walking downstairs. The fag quickly started crawling along behind me, doing his best to keep up. At least he didn't do something stupid like try to stand up and walk like a person. That would have been a huge mistake. I led the fag out the back door into the yard. It's a a big backyard, and I put up a privacy fence specifically so I could use bitches outside. It's great training for fags; it reinforces that their status isn't just "bedroom play" but a way of life, regardless of locale. I needed to piss. He'd never drank a man's piss before. I'd made him drink a glass of his own piss on Skype one night, just to test his obedience. It took him a while to choke it down, but he drank it all. Drinking straight from a man's cock is a different experience, however, and morning piss is the strongest and nastiest. I expected a mess, but it was an important test for the faggot. Once outside, I made the bitch kneel in front of me with his mouth wide open. Apparently, he was expecting to suck my cock, but I held it just outside his mouth. When I started pissing, I could see the fear in his eyes increase. My morning piss was dark yellow and quickly filled the fag's mouth. I stopped my flow and ordered him to swallow it. He did, and then started to cough and choke, the taste making his gag reflex kick in. Good. I wanted the bitch to suffer through this, to hate every second, yet strive to obey regardless. That's what true obedience is all about: hating something yet doing it anyway. The fag ended up spilling about half my piss. Some he choked down, some ran out of his mouth, some he almost swallowed, then retched back up. I finally hosed the faggot down head to toe in piss. I wanted him to smell it, to know he'd been marked with it. I wanted the scent and taste of it to linger on his body and in his mouth, as a constant reminder of being used as my urinal. When we were done, the look on his face was priceless: a combination of relief that it was over, disgust at what he'd done, and dissatisfaction with his own failure to swallow it all. That last one, that's the look that convinced me this fag was worth my time to continue training. "Does it need to piss? Need to take a dump, fuckhole?" I asked, as he sat there dripping with my urine. He nodded, not making eye contact with me. I knew by now he probably had to piss pretty badly. Time for a new lesson. I ordered the faggot to heel again and walked him on his leash to the back part of the yard. When I stopped and turned around, I could see in his eyes he'd figured out what was coming next, and it terrified him. "All right, bitch. Do your business," I said, staring directly at him. He immediately went into one of those full body blushes only gingers can achieve, his pale skin turning almost as red as his hair from the humiliation of being ordered to piss and shit in the yard on the end of a leash, just like a dog. I made sure to keep staring at him while he tried. Slaves have to learn they are allowed no privacy, no secrets. That's another tough barrier to break down. This was the first step. It took the faggot a while, but finally his full bladder overcame his shame, and he pissed on the grass, squatting there in front of me like a good bitch, the piss shooting out of his chastity cage. I took the opportunity to remind him of why that little locked up nub of his was called a drain and not a cock: this is all it was good for. He just nodded, almost ready to cry from his own shame. When he was done, I asked if he needed to shit, but he quickly shook his head no. He was lying, of course. Just as well -- I had better training in mind for the cunt. He was still covered in my piss, and frankly, I didn't want him dripping all over my floors. I looped his leash over the handrail to the back stairs, and left him there, naked and wet, to dry in the morning sun while I went inside. About an hour later, I returned to get the faggot. He was still right where I'd left him. Even though he could easily have untied his leash, I'm happy to say the little fuckhole knew better. I led him back inside and ordered him to make me breakfast. He set to work cooking my food. I knew by now he had to be very hungry. I purposely hadn't fed him anything the evening before except my cum. When my breakfast was ready, I had the faggot lick and clean my feet while I enjoyed my bacon, eggs, and toast. I had a tasty breakfast while he got to suck the dirt off my soles and from between my toes. That was part of the message I wanted the fuckboy to get in his head: I have comfort while he suffers. I was nice enough to leave some scraps of everything on my plate when I was done eating. I got up and pulled a can of tuna fish from the cabinet and opened it, then dumped it on my plate with the rest of my breakfast scraps. I gave it a good stir, then spit in it a couple of times for good measure. Once the slop was ready, I put it on the floor and allowed the faggot to eat his breakfast. No hands, of course. Animals don't eat that way. I wish you could have seen it. That full body blush happened again. He was groveling on the kitchen floor, trying to eat this nasty concoction with just his mouth, getting it all over his face. The smell of my piss was still very strong, and I know it filled his nostrils and flavored his food, too. Good. This was just a start, not to mention one of the best meals he was likely to get in my house. Perhaps I could even move the faggot up to eating from a dog bowl before the end of the weekend at this rate. So far that morning, the pussyboy had failed two tests: drinking all my piss, and shitting outside on his leash. I had fully expected he would fail those. Those tests were more about measuring his obedience and determining what mental barriers I needed to break down as part of his training. However, an essential part of training a faggot is never allowing any failure to perform as ordered to go unpunished. Otherwise, you just get more failures, and eventually disobedience as well. No, fags need strict control and discipline at all times, not to mention swift and certain consequences. I filled a large glass with water and ordered the faggot to chug it. He drank it down while I went to the bathroom. I keep some fast-acting laxative suppositories tucked away in the medicine cabinet for faggot training like this, as well as some Viagra. I grabbed two of the suppositories (twice the usual dose) and one of the Viagra pills. By the time I returned to the kitchen, the faggot had finished his water. I gave him another large glass of water, followed by another. I wanted him full of water. When he'd finished the third glass, I ordered him to put his head down on the ground with his ass in the air. I took a moment to admire the pretty welts my belt had left all over his beautiful little ass, then slowly inserted both the suppositories up his hole. Once they were in, I gave the fag another glass of water, and told him to swallow the pill, without telling him what it was. Those suppositories don't take long to work. After the fag finished his last glass of water, I grabbed his leash and led him downstairs to the basement. I have a dog cage down there. Nothing fancy, but it's sturdy, and just about the right size for a fag. It has padlocks to make it secure. I unlocked the pussyboy's chastity cage and took it off. I wanted his little dicklet on full display. He gasped as his little drain was able to fully expand for the first time in over a month. Then I led the faggot inside the cage. I attached a short chain to his collar and padlocked it to the top of the cage, then did the same with his wrist cuffs. The result was to keep the pussyboy in a kneeling position, unable to sit down, but able to shift from side to side and turn a little. He was also unable to touch any part of his body. Then I padlocked him into the cage and left him there. I didn't have long to wait. I have a camera trained on the cage so I can keep an eye on any slave locked inside. It took 20 minutes before the fag started feeling the effects I wanted. The Viagra must have kicked in first. I could see his little nub get fully hard and start throbbing and bouncing up and down with his heartbeat. The pussyboy was still incredibly horny, and he began trying to rub his drain against his leg to try and get some pleasure, hoping to achieve only his second orgasm in the month since he'd been locked up. The moment the laxatives took effect, though, was immediately evident from the look on the pig's face. He suddenly realized what was about to happen, and that he wouldn't be able to stop it. He tried, I'll give him credit. He started begging out loud for me to come back, for me to let him out, pleading for release he knew wouldn't come. Finally, the medicine overruled both his will and clenched muscles, and he had no choice -- he shit himself. Probably for the first time since he was a baby. It started slowly at first, and he fought against it, but once it started there was no stopping it. I could see from the look on his face his relief was outweighed by his deep shame at what he had done. Once his bowels were finally empty, though, the reality of his situation set in. I could watch the recognition of it dawning on his face, which by then was already streaked with tears. He realized he was stuck there, sitting in his own mess, for as long as I left him like that. Even worse, when I returned, I'd see him that way, covered in his own shit, with his little nub still hard as steel, no matter how disgusted he was nor how much he willed it to go down. He appeared to finally realize that this was so much worse than shitting in the yard like a dog would have been. Once all that water went through him, he had no choice but to piss himself, too. Ever try pissing with a hardon? It's not easy, but a full bladder will have its way. Of course, that meant the pussyboy was pissing all over himself, simply adding to the cage already filled with his own filth. I left him like that for six hours. Six hours, sitting there in his own waste. His nose filled with the stench of my piss as well as his own piss and shit. The smell a constant reminder of his lowly status, a reminder that he wasn't able to control anything, not even his own bladder or bowels. His predicament was because I chose it; his body responded to my will, not his own. I left him there to think about the consequences of not performing up to my expectations. I wanted him to fully grasp that what happened to him was my decision, not his, and that I would allow him no privacy, no dignity, no choices. When I finally returned to let him out, he was broken. I could see it in his eyes. Something fundamental had changed in his brain, as he pondered and finally grasped the full import of his situation there in the cage. He cried when I came down to let him out; tears of shame, and also tears of submission. Not unusual, really. The faggot had all that pent up stress and fear, built up over all those years of pretending to be something he wasn't, trying to act like a human and a man, and that had all fallen away as he sat there, kneeling in his own waste, helpless to do anything about it. It was cathartic for him, destroying those inhibitions that would have prevented him from fully serving any real man that chose to use him. I let him sob and blush while I stared at him, making sure he knew I saw him for exactly what he was: a subhuman pig in a cage, covered in piss and shit, still sporting an erection. Yeah, even after the Viagra wore off, despite the disgusting state of his cage, the humiliation of being seen like that combined with a very full pair of balls made his little drain stand up and throb, merely adding to his embarrassment. It was possibly the thing he was most ashamed of, the piece de resistance. I left him locked up while I went outside and got a bucket and filled it with water, then brought it back and set it down next to the cage, along with an old sponge I used for washing my car. I unlocked him and released him from the cage. "Clean up your cage, pig. No one wants a faggot covered in its own shit," I sneered. I reached out and slapped the little nub between his legs nice and hard. He squealed and bent over from the pain, but I noticed his drain didn't go soft: if anything, it just got harder. I could tell he hated the pain but hated the fact that it turned him on even more. He was ashamed of his desires and needs, like most faggots. All I was doing was exploiting that shame, along with his need for abuse. I stood by and watched while he cleaned his shit and piss out of the cage. Made him scrub it good from top to bottom, even the parts that weren't soiled. He had to go outside several times to change the water and rinse out the sponge, but I didn't allow him to clean himself up first. That came last. I wanted him walking around with the evidence of his complete lack of control present on his body for as long as possible. The stench was terrible, but trust me, it was worth it. This little episode was a lesson the faggot would never forget and went a long way towards stripping away the veneer of humanity he was clinging to. It was an essential part of transforming the faggot into the cockpig it is today. Once the cage was completely clean to my satisfaction, I ordered to pussyboy outside, and put him in the 'present' position: standing, legs spread wide, hands locked behind his head, eyes down. I used the hose to wash him down, the same way I would clean off any other dirty object I owned. I think the comparison was pretty clear to him as well. Such things help to reshape a fag's mind, and act as a reminder to the pussyboy he isn't a person, but something lesser: property. I hosed him off good, then leashed him up and left him tied to the railing again to drip dry. Meanwhile, I went inside and prepared a nice large enema. Had make sure the bitch was clean inside as well as out. I also grabbed a butt plug. Not too long, but fat enough that the fuckboy's tight little hole would be securely plugged. Once he was dry, I led the pussyboy back inside and bent him over the tub. He'd never had anyone give him an enema before, and I could tell he was scared when he saw the bag. It's a big bag, more than enough to fill the faggot up. I drained it all into his hole, then plugged him with the butt plug. Nice and secure, with all that water churning in his guts. I pulled out my cock and sat on the toilet, putting the faggot on his knees, sucking on my tool. He was working on getting it down his throat when the first cramp hit him deep inside. I could see it on his face the moment it hit, and I laughed. "What's the matter, pig? Guts churning again? Need to release that enema?" I asked. He nodded vigorously, my cock still in his mouth. "Well, faggot, do you think that's more important than pleasing my cock and making me cum?" He slowly shook his head. "Exactly, bitch. Make me cum and the toilet is yours. I'll pull the plug and it can empty its guts. Make a mess on my floor and it will lick the floor clean, understand me, faggot?" The pussyboy nodded. I could tell the cramps were increasing. But I also knew he would do absolutely anything to avoid soiling himself twice in one day. From the looks of the way he was clenching his ass cheeks, I surprised he didn't crush the plug with his hole. He began sucking me for all he was worth, ramming my cock down his throat, playing with my balls, using his tongue like a pro. You'd hardly think this was only his second day as a cocksucker. As the cramps increased, he began groaning and even squealing around my cock, sending wonderful vibrations all the way up my spine. I pulled my cock out of his mouth and smacked him with it several times, watching him desperately try to get it back in his throat so he could make me cum. This was exactly how I wanted him -- desperate to please me, desperate for my orgasm, with absolutely no thought of his own useless nub. His little drain was as hard as steel, slapping up against his belly as he bobbed on my cock. It was leaking some of that pent-up cum in his balls, leaving a pool of precum all over the floor. I made the faggot stop sucking me and lick it up. I've never seen a faggot lick faster than he did. I could actually hear his guts churning once he got back on my cock. It wasn't his mouth that made me cum as much as his desperation, his pathetic need to please me. I grabbed his head and shoved my cock all the way down his throat and blasted my load straight into his belly. I held him down on my rod while he sucked out the last drops, knowing that his guts were reaching emergency status. I wanted the message to be crystal clear to him: 'My pleasure is all that matters; your suffering is of no importance.' Once that was burned into his brain daily in dozens of different ways, it would help complete his transformation into true property. This was just the start. Finally, I pulled my cock out of the fag's throat and stood up. Like a dog waiting on a treat, he stared up at me, pleading, begging, whining for me to pull the plug out of his hole. I made him bend over the side of the tub with his ass in the air, then grabbed the plug and pulled it out with one swift motion. The faggot yelled, then clenched his ass cheeks with his hands. As much fun as this was to watch, I finally allowed him to sit on the toilet and void his bowels. Of course, I stood there and watched him while he did it, to reinforce that he didn't deserve privacy. Once the fag was done, I made him stand up so I could inspect the toilet to see how clean his ass was. "Hmm...looks to me like it's not quite clean in there faggot. So, should I give it another bag, or just fuck it and let it lick any mess off my cock when I'm done?" He couldn't even look at me. "Please, Sir..." "Well, fuckhole, which one you are begging for? Speak up, cumdump!" "Please Sir, another bag, Sir," the faggot pleaded. That one had to be hard for him. But that's how those walls and barriers are broken down, how they are chipped away one step at a time until the transformation is complete. I filled the bag again, then emptied it into the pig's guts and replugged his hole. I grabbed his leash and led him outside, then put him on his knees to wait until I was ready to unplug him. He knelt there in the grass while I puttered around the garage, giving the cramps time to work their magic on his brain. After about ten minutes (which probably felt a lot longer to the little cunt) I grabbed his leash and led him on hands and knees to the back of the yard, to the same spot where he'd pissed earlier. Time for a replay. When I asked if he needed to shit, he nodded his head vigorously, desperate for the cramps to stop. I reached around and again pulled the plug in one swift motion. He knew better by now than to release without permission, but I made him wait a minute or two, just enjoying listening to the little whining sounds he made. Finally, I snapped my fingers and gave him permission, and he squatted and released his bowels right there on the lawn like a good little animal. The relief he was obviously experiencing was mixed with the humiliation of shitting outdoors like a dog, while someone - a real man, a human - watched. But he did it. And as he did, another barrier fell, another piece of his humanity was gone for good. And his transformation from faggot to cockpig continued. ************************************************************************* I would love to hear your feedback or ideas for this story! Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com

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Date: Sun, 29 Oct 2023 06:51:23 +0000 From: Zac Subject: Gym Master & His Sub - Chapter 1 "Don't disappoint me," my gym buddy said, staring intently in my eyes. Jared. His name is Jared, and he was standing tall like a muscular statue with bronze skin, green eyes, and veins popping from bulging muscles. He was on his way to the bathroom, and he wanted me to join for some action. He winked at me as he walked away, and I hurried to my husband to let him know I needed to go to the restroom and that I'd be right back. The most Jared and I had ever done was talk dirty on Instagram, but it was about to become reality. He is a dominant top, and "straight", at least to the public. He loved dominating faggots like me on the down low; it turned him on like nothing else, and I was about to be his first victim, at least in a long time. I knew he had a big dick from the pictures he sent, so I was excited to get my mouth, hands and ass on it. "I gotta take a shit," I lied to my husband, "I'll be right back." He told me don't rush and I was thinking perfect, I'm gonna have a little time. I walk into the stall, dick and head buzzing with excitement, my mind filled with endless possibilities of what he had planned. He opened the door, and instructed me, "Get on your knees, faggot," in a deep, raspy tone. He meant business, and thank god we were alone. He was wearing a skin tight white tee and basketball shorts where I could see his hard dick making a considerable tent. I did as told and dropped to the ground, face level with his musky smelling crotch. I was in heaven and in my place. Never had I been shy obeying a powerful man like him. He put his hand on the back of my head and pushed me into his dick where I could feel it through the thin fabric. I was in heaven. Starting to salivate, I instinctively licked his cock through his shorts and he hurriedly pulled them down so i could get it deep in my throat. I started licking the head of his perfect member, uncut, thick and long. I didn't know how I'd be able to take it all but I knew I'd try my absolute best. That's what he wanted, so that's what I was gonna give him. Without hesitation, Jared shoved his cock into my throat with his hand still on my head, this time pulling hard on my hair with the other. Caught by surprise, I choked and accidentally spit out his cock, resulting in him slapping my face hard, then shoving three fingers in my mouth. "Listen up, you faggot whore. You're gonna take my dick when and how I tell you, and if you don't do as you're told, I'm gonna slap you around and choke your fucking throat. You got that bitch?" He snarled, as I moaned deep, his fingers delving deeper into my throat. He slid them in and out getting me prepped for his huge cock, then in one sudden motion plunged it back in, balls deep and held me down with both hands, my moaning muffled as I struggled to keep it in. He smirked and slapped my cheek while he was fully inside of me. I could tell he was enjoying this, which turned me on even more and made me want to keep going, to prove to him I can do it. This whole time, my clothes stayed on, until he bent over forcing me on his crotch even more, sliding down my shorts, sucking his finger and immediately probing my eager hole. "You're ready for me huh you hungry pig?" I nodded eagerly on his dick while my saliva came spilling out the sides of my mouth. He finally took his cock out, spun me around so my ass was facing his hard, wet cock. Without further ado, he smacked my hole and spit on it aggressively. "I'm gonna open this pussy fag. You're gonna be so loose and leaking my loads when I'm done. Then you're gonna go back to working out with your husband and MY cum dripping out of that loose cunt." He smiled wide, eyes devilish and gleaming, proud of owning me and my hungry hole. Arching my back, he took one fell swoop and sure enough, his cock was balls deep in my cunt. I gasped, and before I could make a single sound, he reached forward to shut me up, hand pressed roughly over my mouth. To be honest, it hurt a little but the pleasure outweighed the pain, ending in brutal ecstasy. Knowing that what I was doing was wrong turned me on even more. I'm a fucking sex fiend, I thought to myself, filled with intermingled feelings of pride and shame. My husband was thinking I was taking a dump when instead, I had a 9 inch thick cock inside my ass. All of a sudden, we heard a loud knock on the stall door and turned to stone.. To be continued...

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Date: Sat, 24 Oct 2020 16:35:23 -0400 From: Jeff Hamby <jeffhamby1025@gmail.com> Subject: The Cockpig 2 This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Copyright 2020 by Jeff Hamby. All rights reserved. Warning: This story contains sexual acts between adult males If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relation to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction. If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to keep Nifty in business! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html The Cockpig Chapter 2 When we met, the cockpig didn't look anything like it does now. Oh, yeah, of course I added the markings and the rings, that's a given. No, I mean the look in its eyes, the expression on its face. That's what's different. Back when I started training it, you could see a lot of fear in its eyes, just like you'd expect, but also hope. Hope. It's always hard to tell with a cockpig exactly what it's hoping for. Tenderness? Kindness? Pain? Abuse? Probably some combination of all that, wrapped up together in its little faggot brain in ways it can't possibly sort out on its own. That's part of what gets faggots like mine confused. They get confused about what they want, as well as what they are. Society keeps telling them they are people, with rights, deserving respect. Deep down, though, they know that's not true. They can feel they were born different -- lesser somehow. The first time they have a real man take charge and put them in their place, the light bulb in their brain finally lights up, and they start becoming what they are meant to be. It takes a true alpha male, though, and a lot of patience, to really transform a faggot and help it realize its full potential as a cockpig. To remove that hope from its eyes and replace it with submission. That's what it's all about for me - transformation. I knew early on the cockpig had a lot of potential. He was certainly an obedient little bitch, and took to sucking cock like a champ. As well he should; it's part of what he was born for, after all. After I'd fed the cockpig his first-ever load of cum, I decided to let him get more acquainted with my body. I put him on his knees in front of my recliner and had him start licking my boots clean while I relaxed. He'd never licked a man's boots before he met me. I'd made him secretly lick a pair of his roommates boots one night on Skype for my own amusement. His roommate was his best friend from high school, but not someone he was sexually attracted to in any way. It was funny to watch. He was torn between terror that his roommate would suddenly discover his boots missing and catch him licking them; his disgust at having to smell his buddy's foot sweat; and his pathetic need to obey me. My enjoyment wasn't just from watching him tongue swabbing those nasty boots -- it was watching him wrestle with all those conflicting feelings as he did it, his emotions written on his face as clearly as if he'd spoken them out loud. My boots were the first ones he'd ever licked that were still on a man's feet, though. I'd worn my oldest black cowboy boots just for the faggot, because they were in need of a good tongue shining. Took some time to walk around in the yard for a while before I went to get the bitch just so they'd have fresh dirt and grime on them for his young tongue to scrub off. "Those better be spotless, fuckhole," I instructed him. "No telling what nasty shit is on those boots. I don't want any of that mess on my floor, so make sure to clean them and swallow all of it, pig." By this point, the little faggot was practically chewing the mud off my boots, though I could see disgust on his face as he swallowed each lump of dirt, not sure if it was really dirt or something worse. I lifted up my foot and made him lick the bottoms. The bitch wrinkled his nose at the nastiness, but his tongue never stopped. When my boots were clean, I had the cockpig take them off. His next test: sucking the sweat out of my socks. My feet were nice and ripe, too. I'd worn the same socks for four days, just for this moment. The smell was pretty powerful. From the look on his face, it hit the faggot in the face like a slap when I finally gave him permission to pull of my boots. I could see him recoil from the smell, but he already knew better than to say no to me. He started sucking the sweat out of my socks, taking my toes into his mouth, making little whimpering sounds the entire time. By the time I let him actually lick my stinking, sweaty feet clean, the bitch was sucking my toes like his life depended on it, eventually trying to get my all of them in his mouth at once. Stupid little cunt was so wrapped up in licking my boots and sucking a man's toes for the first time, he never noticed me recording him with my phone. Yeah, that footage would come in handy later on. I knew the pig liked the idea of worshiping a man's feet. We'd discussed it a lot during our Skype calls. But this wasn't about what he liked, it was about seeing if he was worth keeping around to train. Time for a real test. I went and grabbed some leather ankle and wrist cuffs. I padlocked them on the bitch, then clipped his wrists to his ankles, so he was kneeling with his head on the ground and his shoulders supporting his torso. Face turned to the side so I could see the expression on his face at all times. That beautiful, pale young ass was positioned just right. I kicked his legs further apart, exposing his virgin hole. I took one of my socks and stuffed it in his mouth so I wouldn't have to listen to the faggot, then I removed my belt. I stood where he could see me do it, too, so he'd know what was coming and realize he had no chance to stop it. My cock was still hanging out of my jeans from the blowjob he'd given me, and now it started to rise again. I grabbed some lube off the coffee table and started stroking my cock to full mast. I doubled over my belt, then brought it down on the faggot's ass. Not one of those pansy-ass blows, like most faggots expect when they know you're going to spank them. No, this was a full force blow from the onset, the kind your dad used to give you as a kid when you'd really fucked up. I brought the belt down on the bitch's ass right across both cheeks, hard. I could hear him scream into my sweaty sock. I could see the fear in his eyes. He'd told me early on when we started talking he wasn't into pain, that it wasn't what he was seeking. I'd cleared that up real quick: no one cares what a faggot is "into". I told him a faggot's role was to serve, and suffer, and obey. Period. No one gave a shit what a piece of property liked or didn't. Nobody ever asked a doormat for its turn-ons, or inquired what the toilet was "into", so why would anyone care what a faggot liked? He'd said at the time he understood, but now he was experiencing the crushing, painful reality of it. It took about three blows before the tears started. After five blows, the pig was sobbing, tears collecting on the floor next to his face. His ass was already bright red, with large welts forming in the pattern of my belt. God, I love the pale skin gingers have! It colors so easily and perfectly. By the time I was ready to stop, the faggot was sobbing and moaning loudly, his ass clearly on fire. I took careful aim with the last blow and brought the belt down hard right on the pussyboy's hole. He practically levitated off the floor, making a sound like wounded animal, his body thrashing and trembling. The faggot had cum on the floor, his drain still locked inside the chastity cage. I'd whipped a month's worth of cum out of his painfully full balls. All that horniness, gone with one blow of my belt against his asshole. Too bad for the fuckboy, `cause it was going to make what was about to happen even more painful. I dropped to my knees behind him, and rammed by cock in his virgin hole, all the way to the hilt. He went rigid for a second, then began to thrash like a fish on a hook, as if I'd just stuck a cattle prod in his ass and turned it on. He fought and squirmed and tried to get away as best he could while restrained, but he couldn't go anywhere. My cock was lodged deep in his guts, deep inside where no man had ever touched him before. I kept my cock there for a moment, letting him feel the full size of it, letting it stretch his hole for the very first time. Stretch it to fit my cock perfectly, just like a soft, warm glove that was custom-made for my prick. The faggot was panting hard from the pain of being suddenly speared to the hilt on a really big cock, his first cock. I pulled it out of him until just the head was inside his sphincter, stretching it out and leaving him feeling empty after being so completely full. Then I rammed him again. I dug my fingers into his small hips, and began to plow his tight little hole. I wanted him to feel like his hole was being turned inside out, to know what it felt like to be violated. I reached under him and grabbed his caged dicklet and balls, wrapping my hand about them where they met his body. I used them like a handle to pull him back on my cock over and over, making sure to slam into his balls several times as I pounded him. Listening to him scream into my nasty sock was what sent me over the edge, and I filled his guts with the first of what would be many, many loads of cum up his ass. I slowly pulled out of his battered hole. A little blood was on my cock; not unexpected with a virgin bitch like this. There was a little shit too, but not much. The fag had indeed done a decent job of cleaning out his hole, but not quite thorough enough. It was time for the pussyboy's next lesson. I released his hands so he could get up on all fours, then took the sock out of his mouth. His cute young face was stained with tears, and still showed the pain from being whipped and fucked. I grabbed his hair and pulled his face to my cock so the bitch could clean it off, but he turned up his nose at the smell of his own ass and the traces of blood from his deflowering. I slapped him across the face, hard, then pinched his nose until he opened his mouth and I could get the head of my dick in his mouth. He continued to resist, the first sign of a fight I'd seen from him so far, so I decided to try a different tactic. I wiped some of his blood and shit off my cock onto his face, then reached over and grabbed the leash I'd used earlier and clipped it on to his collar. I stood up and started leading the faggot towards the back of the house. He was too weak to stand, which was fine by me. I prefer bitches to crawl. Keeps them mindful of their place at all times. You should have seen the look on the fag's face when he saw the back room. It's not a "dungeon" by any means, and certainly not a "playroom". Those are for queers that want to pretend this is real. No, my room was carefully designed. Just a few, select pieces, each specifically chosen either to allow me to easily use a cockpig or to make a faggot's life hell. Or both. My favorite piece, of course, is the cage. It's made of real iron, heavy and solid, like a real cage should be. Once a fag is in there, he knows he's not coming out until I allow it. This cage is a very small square, taller than it is wide, and just big enough to fit a cockpig securely. I had this one designed with a special neck collar opening on one end, so I can trap a slave's head outside the cage, with his body locked inside. The adjustable iron collar is built into the bars, and prevents the fag from pulling his head inside the cage. The cage is just small enough to keep a faggot's ass next to the bars for easy access, and just tall enough most slaves can almost straighten out their legs if they put their back against the top. Almost. I led the faggot up to the cage, but he balked at crawling in. I could see in his eyes he didn't know what was going to happen to him once he was in it, but he knew it wouldn't be good. A good hard tug on his leash finally made him crawl inside. I pulled his head through the far side, and locked the collar around his neck, then locked the other side of the cage. Little bitch began to tremble as soon as he heard the padlock click into place. He was trapped, and he knew it. I don't tolerate disobedience from faggots. They need rules, duties, and very strict discipline to learn their proper place in life. The pussyboy's refusal to suck my cock clean after I deflowered his ass couldn't go without proper correction. The bitch had to learn to obey, quickly and completely, and that any disobedience would result in suffering. I had something special in mind for the little fuckhole. Once I had him secured in the cage, his head firmly trapped, I ordered the pig to put his ass against the top of the cage. He shifted until his feet were under him, and raised his ass up until his back was against the bars at the top. That's when I showed him the hook. I've got a buddy who is a mechanical engineer. Abusing faggots is his hobby, and we often get together to use a bitch when one is handy. He makes all kinds of great stuff, some of it at my request. The hook was one of those. It's a long metal hook, curved just right to conform to a fags ass. There's a big, fat metal ball at the end of the hook that goes inside the faggot, stretching the bitch's hole and securing him on the hook. There's another hook at the end of the handle, which I can lock on to the bars on top of the cage. I didn't say a word to the pussyboy when I pulled out the hook. Just held it so he could get a good look at it. Let him begin to imagine what was about to happen, assuming he could. I walked behind him, and slid the metal ball into his hole, which was still stretched from the fucking I'd given him. Even so, it was a very close fit. His asshole was still quite tight, and, well, its a big fucking ball of metal. Like having a lemon shoved up your ass. Fortunately, I'd dumped enough cum inside him that his hole was pretty well lubed. You should have heard the pig squeal when that ball stretched him open! Unlike a cock or a dildo, the metal is rigid and unyielding. It's a totally different experience. He was already panting and begging by the time I got it in him. I imagine the feel of that cold, round knob of metal in his guts was terrifying to him. Good. That's exactly how I wanted him. I pulled the other end of the hook up and locked it in place on the top bars of the cage. The faggot suddenly realized his predicament: he couldn't squat back down to relax his legs, due to the length of the hook up his ass, and he couldn't expel the knob, due to its size. The only thing more painful that keeping that metal ball up his ass would be trying to shit it back out. So, he was left with his legs half bent, unable to straighten up because the cage was too small, unable to squat because of the hook, forced to support his weight with half-bent legs, putting incredible pressure on his thighs, knees and back as he tried to keep the ball from digging deeper into his already-bruised asshole. If he relaxed his legs, the pain deep inside him increased exponentially; if he relieved the agony in his hole by shifting his weight, he dramatically increased the torture to his leg muscles. I could see his legs were already beginning to tremble and shake. It wouldn't take too long in this position for muscle fatigue to set in. He was reduced to exactly what I wanted him to be: meat on a hook. He'd already started begging and pleading with me, promising to be good. No, he needed to learn, and learning the hard way is best for fags. I stood back to admire my handiwork for moment, as the pussyboy repeatedly tried to relieve the agony deep in his hole. "Hmm," I thought. "Needs something." I pulled a nice, heavy pair of tit clamps from out of a drawer, then reached through the bars of the cage and clamped them on the faggot's tits. These clamps have a metal chain which adds to their weight. With the faggot bent forward, gravity would do all the work, his own movements causing them to swing back and forth, supported only by his tender young nipples. "Get comfortable, cockpig. You're going to be there a while," I laughed, then left the room, closing the door and leaving him to suffer. He was going to learn obedience one way or another. When I started building out the back room for faggot training, the first thing I did was wire it for sound and video. Small, subtle cameras to capture every delicious moment of a pig's suffering and use, with stereo sound, of course. All streamed and saved right to the cloud. It's always nice to have something fun to watch when friends come over, after all. I relaxed in the living room, watching my little ginger cunt on the laptop. Back and forth he went, trying to relieve the pressure of the metal knob up his ass by locking his legs as far as he could, until his muscles fatigued and he collapsed, the hook and ass plug suddenly supporting his weight, driving that metal knob deeper into his hole, bruising his tender insides even further. I could see him trying to expel the knob once or twice when he realized it was the only way to get relief, but when he saw how much more painful that would be, he quickly stopped. Tears and snot were flowing freely down his face. He winced each time he moved wrong and the tit clamps started swinging back and forth, sending pain through his nipples. I left him like that for a full hour. Easily the longest hour of his young life. When I came back in the room, the pig was desperate to please. I could tell that a barrier had broken down in his mind, something that it took pain and desperation to tear down. He wasn't just desperate for his suffering to end -- he was desperate to obey. I didn't say a word to him, just walked over to his trapped head and presented my cock, which was still coated with some dried ass slime from his first fucking. This time, the bitch didn't hesitate, didn't even wrinkle up that cute little nose of his at the smell. He started cleaning my cock like it was the most important thing he'd ever done, which in that moment it certainly was. He was even shoving his shoulders against the bars of the cage, desperately trying to get more of my cock in his mouth, pathetically eager to please me. While he concentrated on my cock, I looked underneath him. I wasn't surprised to see his little nub straining against its cock cage, despite all the torment. The mark of a true cockpig. The pussyboy got my cock not only clean, but hard again, too. I pulled out of his mouth, then walked around behind him. I removed the hook from the top of the cage, then pulled the ball slowly out of his hole, allowing it to really stretch his sphincter as it came out. He made the nicest squeal when it did. I decided, however, to leave the clamps in place for a while. I certainly didn't want to faggot getting too comfortable. After I released the bitch's head, I ordered him to crawl out of the cage, then replaced the leash on his collar. First things first: I led him around the where his head had been locked, and ordered him to lick all his tears and snot off my floor. After all, I can't have faggot's leaving the place a mess. Once the floor was clean, I led the bitch into my bedroom. His legs were so weak he was finding it tough to crawl, but hell, no pain, no gain, right? Once in the bedroom, I stripped off the rest of my clothes and laid down on the bed, then pulled the fag up on the bed with me. I put him to work licking my cock again, getting it nice and wet. Once his mouth and throat had lubed it up good, I told him to sit on it. Now, it's one thing for a pussyboy, especially one that was a virgin that morning, to get bent over and have a really big cock shoved up his ass from behind. He can imagine it, he can certainly feel it, but it's a totally different experience mentally than being made to sit on it. Suddenly, it's not something being forced in his ass that he can't control. Instead, he can see how big it is; he knows how bad it hurts inside him from the first experience. Now he has to do it to himself, and he knows that. He's not just complicit in his own suffering, he's the mechanism of it. Plus, the fag's knees and legs were already fatigued and sore from his time in the cage, so climbing up on my cock hurt before he even got it lined up with his hole. Ha! You should have seen the bitch trying to balance himself just right to get my cock in him! He was having a hard time getting his legs to cooperate as he tried to slowly, carefully ease his sore ass onto my big, thick cock. Just when he was starting to slide it slowly inside him, his quads started to spasm and he fell, spearing himself on my prick, his own weight ramming it deep into his guts. He squealed and thrashed as my cock head rubbed against the sore spot inside him where the metal knob had been lodged, my cock aggravating the painful bruise left from that cold metal torment. Once he was fully impaled, I told him to fuck himself. "Fuck your hole for my pleasure, faggot, not yours. Make my cock feel good. Worship it with your ass. Worship it with your pain. Show me how much you need it in you, bitch," I told him. And he did. The fag started pushing himself up and down on my cock, despite his sore legs, riding the full length of my cock. I know it was hurting him inside from the way he was grunting and crying, but he didn't stop. He kept forcing it inside him until his ass settled against my groin, where he had the head of my cock deep inside his second sphincter. Over and over he lifted himself up, struggling to make his muscles obey him, desperate to please. He'd force himself up until the head of my cock was almost out of his hole, then collapse back on to it, goring himself on my rod over and over, making himself hurt more and more in his pathetic need to obey me. I reached up with one finger and hooked the chain of the tit clamps and pulled, drawing the chain tight, pulling his tender tits out from his chest. They must be nearly numb by now, I realized, so I jerked on the chain and abruptly pulled the clamps off his tits, causing the pig to squeal loudly and clinch his hole on my prick. He blubbered harder, his tears rolling down and dripping on his chest, but he didn't stop riding my cock, pounding his own ass over and over. The look on his beautiful young face was magnificent; it wasn't lust, it was need. Desperate, pathetic, primal need: the need to please, the need to obey, the need to suffer and be used, no matter what it cost him. I reached up and grabbed both of the faggot's tits and pinched them, rubbing the blood back into them, causing him to inhale sharply and let out a loud yell. The sudden pain in his tits made him lose control, and he fell onto my cock again, forcing it into his guts harder than before. I started using his tits to control the fucking, lifting and lowering him by pulling on his nipples, showing him how easily I could control his body and his pain with minimal effort on my part. It was a raw display of my power, one which was not lost on the cockpig, even in that moment. He opened his eyes and looked at me with a mixture of both fear and adoration, the look a dog gives its owner -- hoping for continued attention, and fearing further punishment. I was reshaping the pussyboy's mind, and he knew it. He also knew he was powerless to stop it. That look was all it took: I blasted another huge load up the fag's hole. I used his tits to pull him off my cock, but didn't say anything to him, just let go of his nipples to see what would happen. To his credit, the faggot didn't have to be told this time: he immediately bent over and started tongue-swabbing my cock clean, removing all traces of his ass from my cock and balls. Once he was done, the pussyboy laid down next to me and started to cuddle like a puppy. I shoved him off the bed and on to the floor where he belonged. I didn't want him mistaking this for some faggy romantic situation. A man doesn't cuddle with a cumdump, and I was working too hard to train this bitch to add any confusion to his little cock-worshiping brain. He looked up at me from the floor, confusion and hurt on his face. "That's where it sleeps if it behaves, cockpig," I told him. "Only people get to sleep in my bed. Now, get some rest, fuckhole. It's gonna be a long weekend." And with that, I turned out the light, rolled over, and went to sleep. *************************************************************************** I would love to hear your feedback or ideas for this story! Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com *************************************************************************** I would love to hear your feedback or ideas for this story! Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com

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Date: Sat, 16 Nov 2024 11:36:37 +0000 From: Dejamark Subject: Hot Portuguese Twunk Hey, remember to donate if you can to nifty and keep this service up and running! https://donate.nifty.org/ This following is inspired by a recent interaction. Well, the fantasy that came of it anyway!.... Hey. My name's Mark. Y'all might have once seen me -- seen my butt and more that is- under another name. Back in Y2K I was the centre feature in a euro-boy porn magazine. I was 19 back then. The money helped me through uni. My firm white arse, big dick and dark haired pretty boy visage was probably wanked over by thousands of twink-lovers. I had rich dudes making long plane journeys just to pay to get a whiff of my hot young boy-hole. Life was good. Life is still pretty good. I've done well enough since leaving college 20years ago. But now the boot is on the other foot so to speak. I've been in a loving relationship with a guy my of own vintage for the past 16years, but I still occasionally feel the need to get some fit young ass. My man knows it of course and, while not actually endorsing it, doesn't make it an issue when I disappear some weekends to enjoy the delights of a sexy young escort in a hotel. I have a thing for Latin boys in their early 20s. That euro-boy publication back in my day usually featured a Spanish or Italian hottie. Anyways, I recently encountered a gorgeous young Portuguese twunk online. Nowadays of course, porn mags and dvds are museum artifacts. It's all happening online. This dude was just adorable. A real stunner; 24, beautiful, slender, firm boy butt and succulent asshole. I managed to entice him to come and meet me in my home city. I took him out to dinner and for drinks, parading him on my arm like a trophy. He was polite, amiable and funny. A seriously nice guy.... Until I got him back to the house! My partner was away in Germany for the weekend so I had the place to myself. Now, I should mention that this Portuguese boy-god wasn't faking it as a nice guy; he really was. But I enjoy a bit of humiliation and domination by a younger master, and so he obliged. In fact he exceeded my expectations! Firstly he ordered me to strip off completely and get down on all fours while he inspected my middle aged body. He was down to his boxers. I was nearly drooling at the proximity of his healthy bulge and perfectly shaped butt. The smell of a fit lad's arse nearly half my age drives me wild. This dude was only just born the year I was a centrefold! Now I was his dog to do with as he liked! Having inspected me thoroughly and with a generous few smacks across my face and arse, he proceeded to tease me with his own beautiful posterior. He peeled down his jocks revealing his pert sallow cheeks, spread his legs and thrust his chassis out. I was ordered to crawl up and stick my face in his crack, without letting my tongue do the work it longed to do, and I was forbidden to touch my own schlong. I of course enthusiastically obeyed. His crack was warm and musky with that irresistible whiff of young jock scent. At one point, I couldn't resist and allowed my tongue to reach out and worship his pucker. True to his role as my young dom, he turned and delivered a stinging slap across my sweaty face. I moaned with frustration and delight. "bad doggy!" he chided me. "have to punish him now!" He pulled up his boxers and went around to my rear-end. "present!" he ordered me. I spread my knees, lowering my chin and upper body to the floor while thrusting up my ass for my boy-master to punish. He went right ahead. "One!" Smack! "Two!" Smack!.... "Three!"......on up to 20. My arse was beetroot shade when he was done. Then, he inserted the rubber dog-tail plug. I was almost in tears from the mix of pain, humiliation and sheer delight! He came back around to my front and ordered me to sit up and beg. Meanwhile he wafted poppers under my nose. My dick was weeping precum. I wanted to let my tongue worship his hot young Portuguese shaft and ballsack now, But instead, he turned and presented me with his arsehole. I dove in with my tongue and thoroughly feasted on his hot, musky boyhole. "Good doggy" he kept assuring me between his purrs of pleasure. I was aching to be allowed to jack off. I begged him from between his tight latin buns. Finally he conceded.. But not before he turned, commanded my mouth open, and gave me a fountain of his golden piss. Any thoughts or comments welcome at the above email address!

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Date: Mon, 31 Jul 2023 19:12:13 -0500 From: Pup Paws Subject: Story Title: House Fag at the Leather Club -Chapter 3: Proclaiming it Chapter 3: Proclaiming it Your bf pulls up by your leash to a patio table you haven't even noticed when he excitedly announces "Everyone, this is my fag; you can call him that, or `faggot', but he also answers to `boy'" You're a little offended. Y'all hadn't discussed this in advance, so you weren't expecting it to go quite this way. And he didn't even tell you their names. But he's too excited to notice. "Here, I saved you this spot," he says, plopping back into a chair. But you don't get it. There are seven chairs around a low round table, and each is already occupied. Sir Steven is to your left with his boy. The bf is to the right, and four guys you don't know sit across from you as you just stand there like an idiot. You start to shrug in confusion, but the bf puts a firm hand on your shoulder and pulls down on the leash. "Kneel," he says in a tone that only you will be able to perceive as annoyance. You recall his reminder to "just say yes." So you say, "Oh, sorry, yes sir" and feel some resentment and humiliation as you lower yourself to your knees in front of all these people. On your way down, he leans over and whispers in your ear, "You're such a good boy," and pecks a kiss on your cheek, and you're surprised how quickly it causes you to abandon your resentment and drop into blissful sub headspace. The teasing earlier from Orion definitely helped you be a more receptive submissive as well. He immediately jumps right back into whatever conversation he is having at the table. He's really in his element, and you marvel at his enigmatic social skills. He commands the center of attention, holding court by the pool with his pet by his side. You're not included, but you're also not ignored. While he talks, laughs, and gestures wildly with one hand, the other runs through your hair, caresses your back, traces around your collar, and frequently glides down to pinch, flick and roll your nipple (the one that's still sore and marked from his bites and jingle bell clamp earlier). You're in total ecstasy and fall towards him, leaning your head on his lap and rolling your eyes back in your head. He just keeps going with whatever convo he's having. But you've completely lost all sense of time and your surroundings. Perfectly at home in his lap. He brings you back to reality after a while with a more scrumptious head scratch. Then he grabs your hair and sits you back upright. You look into his eyes, completely twitterpated. "I need a drink, boy" he says and nods over to the bar. You obediently get up, and the table pays you no mind. Two of the guys across the table have left, and two new guys sit there now. You were so blissed out that you didn't even notice. You can take in more of the scene now that you're walking of your own volition instead of being pulled. Sure, several men are checking you out, which usually would make you uncomfortable. But the sun is out, and you're completely surrounded by men glistening with sweat, and it feels like a dream. The bar is very unusual. It's more like a large U-shaped galley set into the side of the building than a traditional bar. You can't really go behind the bar. It's more like kitchen counters. Lots of people are making drinks, including a beefy muscle guy in a wrestling singlet, a completely naked guy with a gorgeous plump ass, and a boy completely decked out in pup gear. Most are wearing collars. As you look around for a bartender, someone slaps you on your ass. You yelp in surprise and turn to your left. No one is there. Not on the right either. Then Orion whispers in your ear, "hello again, sexy, you look a little lost, haha, " making you jump again. He just laughs even harder. He steps up from his hiding place behind you, running his hand down your exposed spine, and gives your perky ass cheek a squeeze saying, "I see you found the pool bar. Why the lost face." "How do I order a drink?" you ask. "We have bartenders over there," and he points to a sliding glass door in the wall." But did I forget to tell you that subs have access to the bar? Most of the drinks are made by subs because they know their dom's preferences better. Just find a spot anywhere. It's organized by alcohol. It should have everything you need, but if something is missing, just let your Dom know, and he can request for it to be brought in." "How do I pay?" You ask. "I have literally nothing on me, " you chortle because you're literally nude. "haha, the doms take care of that. It's all on the honor system. so don't worry about it unless he asks you to keep track of something." Then he playfully grabs your leash, where it's connected to your collar, and slowly pulls his hand away, letting it gracefully slide through. You wonder if he is trying to lead you, but he's not. He wears an intense facial expression and locks eyes with you as he keeps pulling back on your leash. He's so hot, and the thought of submitting to a caged boy is a real turn-on. The leash keeps sliding through his hand as your little boy dick starts to harden. He notices and laughs as he reaches the end, and it falls back against your chest with a light side. "You've got a hair-trigger dick, don't you," he asks "Yeah, sorry," you say and blush with embarrassment As you move your hands to cover it up, he says, "Don't apologize; it was a compliment; you should wear it with as much pride as you do that `faggot'written across your chest." Somehow, you keep forgetting it's written there, and you blush again, explaining, "It's very new to me, and I'm still not used to it. I would have been offended if you called me that. I only realized I'm faggot, and this is my first time being public about it." "Well, I think it's hot as hell, and I love how easily you're turned on. I hope you come to find me later. You still need to earn the kiss," he says and moves on to join another group of guys, leaving you standing there confused and wanting so much more from him. After you snap out of it, you have to decide what drink to make. It's too hot for his typical Sazerac, so you settle on a summer tiki drink and head for the rums. You slide in next to a shorter ginger boy. He looks straight out of a RED HOT calendar, except for his pink thong and matching collar, which complements his pale, freckled skin really well. He's exactly your boyfriend's type, looking a little like one of his exes, and you file that away for potential later use. You introduce yourself and find out his name is Carl. "I saw you resting in your bf's lap earlier; it was very cute," he says "Of thanks for saying that. I was soo blissed out by all the teasing and exposure I just sorta melted, haha. I'm not really sure what the protocol is here, so hopefully I didn't throw off the vibe," you replay, hoping he'll offer a little more insight about the party. "I don't know the protocol either. It's my first time here, but I'm hoping it's not my last. I love it so far. But no one seemed upset, although I can't say they didn't notice. My sir certainly did. I think he was a little jealous, honestly" Carl replies "Oh, we're virgin twins; it's also my first time. When did you get here?" You ask as you start to collect the supplies for your boyfriend's drink. "Basically, just now, Orion took me on the tour, and as soon as I got out to the pool, my sir wanted a drink, so I came right over." Said Carl "Oh cool, well I kinda lost track of time over there on my bf's lap, but I bet I haven't been here much longer than me; that was some tour, huh? And Orion is soo hot... or maybe I'm just in so much heat everyone is looking hot. I sprung a huge embarrassing boner when he snapped this leash on me," you say nervously, making the leash that is still hanging from your collar swing. "Yeah, he's hot af, but he didn't use a leash on me, just showed me around. There is something really sexy about him beyond his looks, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it." Carl replies You're not sure what to say since you apparently got special treatment, and you know about Orion's cage, but it's not your place to share that. Searching for what to say next, you recall what Orion told you as he attached the leash and say, "Oh yeah, I remember now that Orion said that my bf requested he use the leash, so I guess it was the bf, not Orion's leash. Even though Orion put it on me." Carl replies, "Oh, that's really thoughtful, actually. I would have been much more comfortable and secure on a leash, but my dom doesn't think of things like that," "I wouldn't say I was comfortable," you say through laughter, pointing to the word sprawled across your chest. "Yeah, that's quite a statement. I honestly think it looks great," he says "Sorry, I didn't mean to brag about my sir or anything. How did you meet yours?" "No worries," he replies, "we actually just met online, and we only played one so far. After our first session, he said he needed someone to bring here that he could show off. The session wasn't that great, honestly, but I jumped at the chance because I had heard of this place and always wanted an invite." His reply made you think. Carl is nice, you want to keep talking to him, and you wonder a few things, but both the drinks you were making are finished, the ice is melting, and two different sirs are waiting, so head back after saying, "Great to meet you Carl, hope we bump into each other again soon." Not knowing it was going to be a lot more than that. As you take the drink to your sir, the sun is setting, and you notice a different level of excitement among the crowd. The sirs have put on more formal kits and are more leather-clad than before. And the subs are following stricter protocols, quieter, more restrained... literally. When you make it back to the table, you see that Sir Steven's boy and three of the boys from across the table have moved out of their chairs and into the ground. They are in various degrees of bondage, including locks, ropes, hoods, and gags. As you kneel to present your sir's drink, he says, "It's time for you to get back in subspace. We need to prepare for the show tonight," and he slips the blindfold over your eyes. You wonder what show and how you're supposed to see it blindfolded. But you dutifully obey and sit calmly. His conversation with the other two sirs at the table is now carried out in hushed tones. You can't make it out, but they are clearly discussing plans for a scene and are pretty excited about it. Eventually, he turns back to you and asks, "Are you ready to play faggot?" "I think so, sir" you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel. But he knows you too well and says "That sounds like a no. I guess you need a little incentive." Then he tugs your leash down till your face is mashed against his boot. "Lick!" He says. You start hesitantly, still not really feeling it. But then he starts asking you questions. "How does it feel to be at my feet?" "Does this make you feel pathetic?" "What do you think is running through all these real men's heads as they see your bare as up on the air." "Can you believe you've degraded yourself this far, faggot across your chest, naked below these men, not even able to see?" "Is this what you think a good boot licker looks like?" And as he goes along, forcing you to answer each question, you start to fall deeper into your submissive headspace and start to enjoy licking his boots. He's not really a dom that uses physical domination. Instead, he focuses on the mental aspects, fucking with your head. He doesn't need a whip or paddle. Instead, he cultivates your hornyness and your need to please him and uses those as his tools to control your actions. He knows you better than yourself, knows your motivations and deepest desires, and leverages them to make you a better submissive. He makes you his. After some satisfied sir grunts, he suddenly snaps and says, "Position three." So you pop up to all fours. His hands roam all around your body, inspecting you, every now and then adjusting your posture. Which you always love because it means you're exactly how he wants you. He even includes a couple light tugs on your little boy's dick and a few finger taps on your exposed hole. Then you hear, "Open up that faggot mouth," so you open as wide as you can. He hawks a big loogie and spits it in your mouth, then he does it two more times. Each time the thick wad splats in your mouth. But the ancillary spray goes all over your face. "Close and swallow," he says, then spits one more time on your face and rubs it in while laughing. From the time of the laugh, you can tell that he is clearly enjoying himself. But also, he is laughing at you. And for some reason, that brings an expression of delight to your face. He leans and whispers in your ear, "You're such a good fucking faggot" and your delight converts to sheer bliss, cementing your subby headspace. He continues, "Remember what I said this morning. You might get nervous, but I expect you to say yes and go with the flow." Then he stands back up and talks with his regular voice, "I'll ask again, are you ready to play faggot?" This time you say, "Yes sir! More please, sir!" He puts his boot on your back and says, "ok, let's get started," in a much louder voice than you expected as you paint a few times with your tongue out, wanting to lick up all his spit. You hear cheers from a crowd...but you've been blindfolded and didn't know anyone else was paying attention. You wonder what's going on, how many of them are out there, and what they are cheering at. But you leave those thoughts behind as he applies more pressure on the boot on your back, pushing you down flat on the ground. With his boot still pinning you, you feel a hot stream of piss hit the back of your head and hear him say, "Take it faggot, don't resist." You listen and obey, trying to turn your head to catch it in your mouth, but you can't. Someone in the crowd says "Pathetic, he really is a faggot" Next, in one fell swoop, he grabs you by the biceps, lifts you to your feet, and pulls off the blindfold. As your eyes are still adjusting, he spins you around to face all the men, pushes you over in a leaning-forward position, and puts his hard cock against your hole. You think to yourself how quickly this escalated. The crowd of leather men comes into focus. It looks like at least fifteen of them, but it's growing as more men walk over to watch. They are all so hot. There is a whole assortment of gear in the crowd, boots, chaps, gloves, vests and Muir caps. He interrupts you wondering where they are coming from, by saying, "What are you?" loud enough for them all to hear. You reply, "I'm a fagot, sir." "They can't hear you on the other side." "I'M A FAGGOTT SIR!" You yell loud enough for the whole area to hear, hoping it's loud enough for your sir. It must be because heads turn and more men gather around. "What does my faggot want?" Asks your bf, as much to the crowd as to you. "I WANT TO BE OWNED SIR!" You cry back. "I want to be debased and humiliated." "Look at you," he chuckles with a little contempt, "you already are." "Yes sir, please... more sir," you say pathetically "Do you want this dick, boy?" "Yes, sir!" "Beg for it!" "Please, sir, I need it desperately. It's all I can think about," you plead publicly in front of all these men, feeling the debasement, shame, and desperation deep inside you. "Like this?" He asks, applying more pressure on the outer rim of your hole with his throbbing dick. Then he yells to the crowd, "Should I give him what he wants?" And you hear a loud cheer. Since your sir spun you around, you've been facing them all, but you were so far in subspace, so focused on your faggatory, that you didn't really notice. With their roar, you realize that almost all the sirs that were at the pool party earlier now surround you. You even see the boy from the bar, Carl, with big eyes and a rock-hard cock. Above the cheers, you hear specific men say, "Take it faggot", "what a fucking slut", and "faggots don't get a choice." As you try to take it all in, trying to figure out what's going on, your hole stretches as he thrusts his rock-hard cock in you. You've been wanting it, begging for it, and you crave more. You take a sharp gasp, and he just keeps pushing. Being a faggot in front of all these men feels great. His fat mushroom head pops past your first hole, your head cranes back, and goosebumps run up your back. Everything starts to fade. Your whole world shrinks into your swollen P-spot. His man meat rams in. His swollen head grazes your spot, and you feel that warm feeling at the tip of your little boy dick like you're about cum. It makes you want to grab your little boy dick so bad, but he's still holding you by your biceps. He pulls back, readjusting his legs to line up, then punches your spot head-on, with the full force of the rod pressing behind. Then he rams it again and again and again. Pounding it directly ...really fucking hard. An involuntary spasm starts at your outer ring and moves up your hole. You milk his dick, pressing it against your spot, and you start to drip cum. Another spasm follows the same path and, this time goes all the way up your shaft. Suddenly gobs of cum are spouting out of your dick. You can't quite tell what's going on by feeling, so you uncertainly look down to can see your own pathetic cock. The crowd is really rooting for you now. They seem closer. You hear "take that big dick faggot" and "work for it faggot". He thrusts yet again, triggering another spam; you see a stream of cum rocket out of the little boy's dick this time. It's heading directly for your face, so you open your mouth to try and catch it. But the pounding is shaking your body, and it misses landing on your cheek. Another rope squirts out so hard that it flies by your open mouth and lands in your hair. Your tongue is out like a dog; all you can do is drool and stare into the crowd. Cum is still oozing out of your little boy dick as he relentlessly pounds your prostate. It rearranges your inside and openes you for him to go deeper. He plummets in. You moan in ecstasy and feel your load drip from your hair and run down your face. "Boy!" Your sir calls to the boy from the bar. "Get over here and clean off my faggots little boy dick." He starts to move, but the sir that brought him pulls him back. Your sir slows his strokes as the crowd grows quiet. Your sir looks at the other sir and says, "The members have clearly made their choice. Are you really going to deprive him too?" All eyes are on Carl. But you're busy wondering what your sir means by that, But you have no energy to focus. All you want is dick; you just want the fucking to last longer. Your sir drops his voice a register and says to Carl, "Boy, you have to choose who to obey." The boy looks back and forth while your sir still fucks you with long, slow strokes. Then Carl steps away from his sir, walks in front of you, and kneels. Mumbles ripple across the crowd as Carl's sir storms out. You wonder what's going on, but before you can figure it out, you feel a deep hard thrust and hear "Now get to work, boy, and clean up my faggot's dick." As Carl starts licking you clean, your sir says to the crowd "Faggots should only be coated with real men's cum, not pathetic submissive ooze, isn't that right men?" Causing the crowd to rally and forget the preceding drama as he resumes fucking you with his normal vigor. Letting go of your arms, he leans in to whisper, "Take off that boy's collar" You're kind of shocked to hear it. It's just not done. Submissives don't even take off their own collars and definitely don't touch other boys' collars. That right is exclusively reserved for dominants. But his dick is sliding up and down your prostate, and you absolutely will not do anything that could cause him to stop. So you look down at the boy, reach for the buckle, and quietly ask, "Are you sure this is ok? Sure this is what you want?" He pauses, licking up the cum that leaked out, looks directly at you, and confidently nods. So you undo the buckle and toss it aside. The crowd mumbles again. Freeing him from his collar triggers something in him. He grabs your waist, stares at your little boy dick, takes a deep breath, and just fucking goes to town! He's not licking anymore. He sucks with such enthusiasm that you start to shiver. The back of his throat has completely engulfed you. Your sir laughs at the scene but then butts in as soon as it begins. He reaches around you and pushes the boy's head back, and says, "Wait, boy" to him. He looks crushed. Then your sir says to you, "This isn't over; it's just beginning," and pulls his dick out. The sudden feeling of emptiness is devastating. He turns you around so your back is to the boy and to the crowd and tells you, "Bend over and work on this," as he wags his dick that he just pulled out of your hole. You happily oblige and take the head in your mouth. It's still warm. As you begin sucking, he says loudly, so the whole crowd can hear, "ok boy, get my faggot's hole ready to take all these men," and the boy spreads your cheeks and dives in with the gusto that he had for your cock. Your hole is loose and sloppy from the fucking that you received from your sir. And Carl's tongue is longer and stronger than any other that's eaten out your ass before. You feel his smooth wet tongue make circles around your puffy hole, then press straight in. It sends shivers up your spine and encourages you to take your sir's cock deeper. You start to worry to yourself that you can't keep up with this boy. Then your competitive spirit kicks in. And you realize that you can't let this boy show you up. You're the biggest faggot here; everyone needs to know it, even him. To show your sir and the crowd your depravity, you reach behind you and pull his head deeper, and moan on your sir's dick. In response, he starts moaning and humming with his face buried in your ass. You have your sir's beautiful god cock in your mouth and a sexy boy filthily rimming you. You're in heaven. Your sir interrupts the fun, saying, "ok, boy. You've done a great job. My faggot's clean and ready to get slopped up again by all these men that have been waiting patiently. Be a good boy and go wait with the other subs." These few short and direct sentences cause a cascade of emotions in you. First, you're surprised how much you like continually being called a faggot. It feels like you've been a faggot your whole life, but really you only admitted it to yourself a few hours ago, and already you're getting competitive about ensuring you're seen as the biggest faggot in the room. Then you wonder what he means by getting slopped up by all these men. At first, you didn't even notice them. Then you had assumed they were just an audience. The thought of them using you really excites you. And what the hell did he mean by waiting with the other subs? What other subs? All you saw was sirs left. You want to look around to see what he means, but you're still serving his cock. As these thoughts swirl around your head, he announces, "ok, men, your turn! Where's Sir Steven? As our sponsor, it's only right that you get dibs." Sir Steven steps out from the crowd and says, "Thanks for the offer; I'm actually going to claim the last spot; I prefer to use a totally spent faggot to one that's still relatively fresh." "Fair enough, I totally understand," your sir replies, pulling his dick out of your mouth. You're bent over, still in a forward fold panting to catch your breath as he leans down and says. "I know you want to humble yourself in front of all these men. You've told them how much of a faggot you are. So now it's time to show them. Lean into the feeling of debasement and let them have your way." You stand there internalizing what he just said when you hear from him again, "I'm waiting for a reply faggot" so you say, "Yes sir." He holds your head down by the top of your neck and steps down to stand by your ass. He spreads your cheeks, spits on your hole, and announces to the crowd, "he's all yours!"

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/house-fag-at-the-leather-club/house-fag-at-the-leather-club-1

Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2023 18:06:07 -0500 From: Pup Paws Subject: House Fag at the Leather Club -Chapter 1: Admitting it to yourself Admitting it to yourself. Feel that pain in your nip. Enjoy taking it from him. Feel the pinch of the clip and the weight pulling down. Surrender to your sir. He enjoys your struggle, your submission, your predicament. Give in. Follow his orders as they ramp up the pain, shame, and humiliation. The harder it gets not to tap out, the harder you get. Will it pay off in the end? If you're a good enough boy, will he let you cum? Stay still as your nip hurts more and more, as he inspects, corrects, repositions, and adds more sting with his crop. Feel the pain and pleasure. It reinforces the hardwire connection from your nips, through your torso to your spot inside your hole, up your shaft to the place under the head of your dick. Every word he says stinks you deeper in sub-space. His instructions soothe your mind and bring you back to your center, him. Close your eyes and focus on your sir's pleasure from seeing you like this, starting a pleasure feedback loop. Listen to your sir's comments on your status, reinforcing your subordination as he stands tall over you. Follow his commands to crawl around on hands and knees, making the clips swing and pull, guided by his voice and leash. Hunt around for the magnets he spread around the floor. Bend over and pick them up. The magnets add weight to the clips. Exposing yourself even more as he smiles, laughs, and enjoys your increasing humiliation. Struggle for him. It pleases him to see you like this. Feel the weight swing, pull, and twist. Feel it radiate through the hard wire connection, opening your hole and yearning for pressure on your spot. With all this pain and struggle up front, you won't need poppers. All you seed is more. As your desperation to get fucked climbs, Realize he has more in store. Wonder if you can take it. You will, you'll do anything, and he knows it. Wine, moan, and even cry all you want. It makes him harder. "Please, can I have more? Please, SIR, more." Bend back down to pick up the little jingle bells he dropped on the floor. Hear them ring with every little movement. Let his laughter remind you of your place. He'll love telling his friends about this. They'll all know about you. You know better than to touch your little boy dick, but you're desperate, so you crawl over to where he's sitting (his throne) and bury your head in his lap, pressing your head into his manly thighs, waiting for instructions huffing in his musk with deep breaths. He pets your heads, calls you a good boy, and you melt as he pulls you in tighter. He straightens his leg as you whimper, pressing it along your belly and involuntarily into your crotch. The slightest touch, even from his legs, sends tingles of pleasure through the energy line, through your spot, back up to your pinched nips. Maybe he will let you get off after all. You shiver, making the bells jingle. You had momentarily forgotten about them in stillness. He clocks it, and it makes him giggle. "Did you forget about your little bells for a second, boy?" He asks "Mhmm," you nod back. "Use your big boy words. When I ask you a question, I expect you to respond respectfully, in complete sentences," he says, looking down at you on the floor. His disappointment, even this slightest amount, is deflating. You'll do anything to re-earn your good-boy status. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I understand. I won't make that mistake again." "Good boy, now let's try that again," he says as he runs his fingers through your hair and presses your cheek against his thigh, triggering a wave of relief and a giant grin. "Did you forget about your little bells for a second, boy?" He asks. "Yes, sir, I was distracted when your leg grazed my little boy dick, and I forgot for a second, " you reply. As he starts sliding his hand from the top of your head, past your collar, down towards your pecs, you hear him say, "Well, I think you know what that means." And suddenly, you know exactly what it means, and his finger grazes the tip of your right nip that extends past the clamp. But it's just the slightest graze. His hand wraps under your pits as he guides you up off your knees below him. Maybe you don't know what it means. You stand before him, unsure what to do, fully erect and fully exposed except for leather cuffs around your wrist and ankles, a leather collar, and nipple clamps, still weighed down by magnets and little bells. He's dressed in full leather, sir garb. Hat, belt, pants, gloves, boots, all leather. He scans you head to toe as you feel a mix of humiliation and pride.`` You hear "position 2" and immediately snap into place, making the bells jingle again. A smirk develops on his face. Then he leans forward as you realize he's positioned you to align your now aching nips at his eye level. You know better than to lose position by tilting your head so you lose sight of him out of your downward peripheral as he approaches your chest. You feel his tongue lightly flicking your nip. It hurts but in a good way. Then you feel his soft lips encircle your whole nip, clamp and all, swirling his tongue all over while jingling the bell with his finger. He's laughing with enjoyment out the side of his mouth. As you struggle to focus through the sensation and hold position, he opens the clamps, and BAM, all thoughts and focus are lost. You jump and yelp from the sudden rush of blood back into your nips. But he holds you tight and starts sucking on your most sensitive nip as he drops the clamps on the floor for their final jingle. You grit your teeth, breathe deep and try to return to the position as he growls and transitions from sucking to biting. He's marking you, claiming you. The pain is excruciating. And on top of it, you realize everyone will see the bite marks and know who was in charge and who wasn't. But he has your permission to leave marks, as long as they aren't permanent. And you wanted to be his submissive; at least, you thought you did. It's happening so fast, and the effect is so strong. You moan and twist, but he only holds on tighter. He catches your flailing arms and pins them down, squeezing them tight to your sides. He's in complete control of you; he has you pinned. You begin to surrender and, in doing so, can regain composure. The restraint is somehow reassuring. The surrender is liberating, and you transition from needing physical restraint back to freely choosing to succumb to his will. He can feel the shift and lets go of you, returning to his throne and making his trademark happy sir noise. "No shirt at the pool," he says. And you nod in response. He's been slowly outing you as a sub to your friend group for a while, and now even more people will know. It's scary, but you trust him, and it's paid off by leading to playdates with a couple of them. You secretly hope one in particular notices and says something about it so you can have an opening to disclose your submissive status. Maybe he could join your sir, and you could submit to them both. You notice his gaze on your thigh as you're lost in thought. It's shiny. And there is a long thick drip dangling from your little boy dick. He chuckles. He hasn't permitted you to cum in days. Add on all that stimulation, and this was bound to happen. It's a reminder that you're not in control of your sex organ; you've willingly given the power to him. The thought makes you almost instantly hard, and as you raise, another small drop comes out and starts to slide down the already stretched thread. "We mustn't waste that," he says mockingly, collecting it on the fingertip of his leather-gloved hand so you can suck it off. You know not to swallow, even after he's deposited it into your mouth. He follows up by joining his lips to yours, and his tongue probes into your mouth, swirling your precum. It's salty and slick. He moans with pleasure settling back into his chair, and you reluctantly swallow. "Back on your knees," and you obey. You can't help but smile with him looking down on you. Your favorite position is looking up at your sir from your knees at his feet. "Tell me who you belong to," he commands "You, sir, I belong to you," comes your reply without any hesitation "What are you?" He asks in his deep sir voice. This time there is hesitation. At first, you aren't sure. You're many things; a boy, a sub, a toy, a bottom, a trophy boy, bait, the list goes on. He sees the confusion on your face and slowly unbutton his leather pants. Your mind goes blank, and you perk up on your knees. "Do you want this?" He asks as he undoes the top button "Yes, sir, I want it." "Is getting this man cock a priority for you?" As he undoes the second button "Yes sir, taking cock is very important to me sir," you reply desperately, eyeing the top of his plump shaft. "Are you a vessel for cock and a receptacle for real men's cum?" As the third button pops "Yes sir, I want to be used as cocksleve and be a place where real men can drop their loads wherever they want, sir" you reply, "I'm a cumdump sir," thinking you've found the answer to his original question about your identity. But no, he asks, "Do you want me to share you with all my friends, to invite them over, or pimp you out when I see fit?" As he unbuttons the final button. His dick is straining now, bowing out, but it's too big to break out by itself. It's at your eye level, the perfect height to slide down your throat. It makes your mouth water. You gulp, and even though it scares you to say it out loud, you reply, "Yes sir, I want you to pass me around, I trust you to decide who gets to use me and when" Your dick gets hard again, and he makes his happy sir noise in response. "So I'll ask again, what are you?" He says, taking a step closer, bringing his bulging meat to your face, and looking directly down at you. But you still don't know. You start to worry. Will he step back away? He doesn't. Instead, he locks eyes with you, stretches his elbow over his head, and flexes. You try to keep eye contact but can't help looking all over you. He clocks your admiration and chuckles, reveling in the power difference. You revel in it, too, and fall headlong deeper into subspace. He grabs his phone, saying, "I'll give you a hint. It starts with `f'." Now you know what he's after, and you nod your head. He holds the camera over you, framing his bulging man Dick and his kneeling boy. He grabs your chin with his free hand to tilt your face up toward him. The camera clicks. You know to keep looking up, so you hold your neck in the craned position as his leather-gloved hand rotates around your chin and his fingers graze your lips, making you shiver. Two fingers push in your mouth, then three, then four. His thumb locks under your jaw, and he says, "You're mine, boy. You bear my marks; I've claimed you." You wonder if he's filming this or just holding the camera. You feel the ownership strongly, and you hope he is filming. You secretly like being filmed. It's a reminder of your submission, documented evidence of your place. And you know he shares the videos with other people. You like the idea of him showing you off, using you as bait to lure other men. You try to affirm that you are his, but his fingers in your mouth make it all garbled. You start to get hard again as his fingers push further back, more in your throat than your mouth, back where it's rough and bumpy in your throat. They trigger a light gag. You can't swallow because his fingers are too deep. You've been training your gag reflex for some time so you can take it, but he likes to test your limits. Your eyes water and your nose starts to run. Panic starts to creep in, but you hear, "You got this, be a good boy," and his deep voice calms you. Your breath is loud, and you gasp around his fingers, but it slows, and you can eke out the slightest nod. So he continues exploring your throat as you continue to resist gagging. You still do a little, and when you do, you feel your throat tighten on his fingers. It makes your hole clinch too, and your little boy dick pulses each time. Your eyes are bloodshot, and tears run down your face as he pulls his fingers out. You're so relieved, mainly to get air. But at the same time, you didn't want to stop. You hear, "Good boy! I'm proud of you," and beam with pride as he smears your thick spit all over your face and cleans his gloved hand by rubbing it through your hair. He snaps another pic and smirks again. "You want more down there?" He asks. And you whimper back, "Yes sir; please sir." "Well, answer me, boy; what are you?" As he brings that camera lens back to face you. But you're too proud to say it. "I'm a f..." you try, but it won't come out. His man meat breaks free with the slightest tug on his leather pants. It points straight at you; its weight and length keep it from pointing up like your light, skinny little boy dick. You plead, "pleeeease sir." "Say it, boy, what are you?" "Siiiir," you beg. Begging to both have his dick and not have to lower yourself anymore. You're already at his feet, fully exposed and wearing his bite marks. But he wants it all, not just your body. He wants your mind, your pride, your identity too. He says, "I know what you are, boy, but you have to say it." "I'm a f...faggot sir," you say, in defeat and despair He smiles and pets your head. "That's right, boy, you're a faggot, you're MY faggot," and he grabs your hair with his free hand and pulls your head to within an inch of his hard dick. "But you sound unsure. If you want this dick, make me believe it." "Siiir..." you protest He tilts your head up and spits on your face. And honestly, you like it. He spits again, and you want it even more. Maybe he's right. So you try again with less protest in your voice and more conviction. "I'm a faggot, sir." "That's right, boy, look into the camera and tell all my friends what you are." You forgot he was filming, and you're unsure what will happen if this video gets out. But it's true; you're desperate for dick. Dick makes you feel whole. You need it, and you'll do anything to get it. You shouldn't have to hide it. More people knowing may actually be a good thing. So you commit "I'm a faggot" "Louder" "I'M A FAGGOT, SIR!!!" You proclaim loudly. And it feels correct He tosses his phone aside and says. "Now be a good faggot and get to work."

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/gym-master-and-his-sub/gym-master-and-his-sub-2

Date: Tue, 31 Oct 2023 00:25:39 +0000 From: Zac <vpz111zpv@protonmail.com> Subject: Gym Master & His Sub Chapter 2 Chapter 2 I admit, during this entire time of being man handled, I hadn't payed attention to anything going on outside the stall. My brain was lost in joy of Jared's cock absolutely ripping me apart, and the way he used me like the damn dirty pig that I am. A voice echoed loudly, "Who the FUCK is in there? Chris, is that you? What the fuck do you think you're doing? Open this damn door or I'm gonna break it down." Still frozen with a cock fully submerged in my guts, Jared decided to act. Pulling out and standing up, he gave me a few seconds to put my shorts back on and gather myself, before opening the stall. My husband, Antonio, was standing straight, face red as a fresh tomato, fists balled up, and looking like he was ready to swing. Feeling deep shame, my face fell and in one swift movement, I felt him grab me by the hair forcefully and drag me out of the restroom. I flinched in pain but thought better to not say a word. When he was angry, there was no way to console him, I just had to wait it out. He let go of me outside and shoved me forward, finally breaking silence, "Go to the car and don't talk to me. We'll discuss this at home." For some reason I detected a sense of calm in his demeanor and immediately was confused. Was he already over it, I thought to myself. Couldn't be. He never calmed down this fast. My mind raced as I opened the car door and sat down, head still low... The car ride was quiet, uneventful, so this might be a good time to tell whoever is reading this what I look like. I'm white with blue eyes, light brown hair, sorta hairy, especially my legs and a little patch on my chest. My ass is furry but I like to at the very least trim it and keep my hole smooth for easier access. I'm nearly 6 feet, muscular but not huge, 155 lbs. Oh and I have a beard. I used to be a twink until I started working out and developing muscle in all the right places. I was the most horny at the gym. All these sweaty men in front of me, huge muscles and masculine features. Truly, I was in heaven every time we would go. While I was deep in my thoughts, I heard a voice becoming clearer, "Chris? Chris! Can you hear me? We're here, get the hell out and meet me in living room. I'll be there in a sec." I didn't want to make him any angrier, so I rushed inside and sat down on our couch. Curious, I thought...What does he need in the car? I thought he'd come in with me. Being the nosy guy that I am, I looked through the blinds and saw him talking on the phone, smirking. Why is he smiling? I thought. This wasn't normal. Why was he going from being livid to smirking on the phone and with god knows who. I was about to find out... Back on the leather couch, and feeling confusion mixed with enticement, Antonio opened the front door and stared deep in my eyes, a twinkling in his own..."So? When were you gonna tell me you're Jared's little whore?" He cracked a smile while raising his brow. I exclaimed, "What?? I'm not his little whore, and that was our first time..." I hesitated to say more but figured it best to keep being honest, "We've talked dirty on Instagram but that was all it was until....tonight...Sir...I'm sorry. You hate me huh..." I felt genuinely upset. Never had I liked disappointing my husband, my man, my master. His feelings were important to me, but I just couldn't help being such a horny bastard. He chuckled again, filling me with even more confusion, "I don't hate you Chris...in fact, if I'm being honest, hearing him order you around and treating you like the god damn slutty pig that you are got me hard as shit." Utterly surprised, I was about to speak when he confirmed what I was thinking, "YES, I heard everything. You were his little faggot for a few moments. I bet he stretched that loose cunt real good, huh boy?" I was speechless, and at the same time feeling a buzzing sensation in my groin. Before I knew it, I was rock hard, and as I looked down I saw his cock filling up his shorts real nice... "You like the attention huh Chris? You know what, since you're such a fucking slut, I'm deciding to whore you out to Jared and we're both gonna be your masters. In fact, that's who I was on the phone with just now. We are planning to make you the sluttiest bitch in the gym. And we're gonna make money off your stretched out cunt. You like being a pig? You don't have a choice now," he said, devilishly, eyes on fire with lust and power. My body didn't lie. I wanted it. I needed it. I was going to obey, whether I liked it or not. I finally got the strength to speak. "Yes Sir," was all I could get out. He smiled again, and I could tell he was satisfied. "Get in our room. Jared's coming over and this is gonna be the first night of you being OUR faggot. You got that, slave?" I nodded eagerly and ran to our bedroom. This was going to be a wild ride. My hole tingled in lustful excitement. I heard the doorbell ring...Here we go, I thought. To be continued

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/house-fag-at-the-leather-club/house-fag-at-the-leather-club-4

Date: Fri, 18 Aug 2023 20:23:05 -0500 From: Pup Paws Subject: House Fag at the Leather Club -Chapter 4: Deciding to Keep Going Chapter 4: Deciding to Keep Going Next day You groggily come to in an unfamiliar room. A deep rumbling noise almost lulls you back to rest. But you got excellent sleep. The bf is cupping your little boy dick with his sleeping hand, which is so comforting and gives you a deep sense of security. You dare not move cause you don't want him to take it away. You survey the room, as much of us as you can see from your vantage, not remembering coming here last night. It's luscious, elegant, and distinctly masculine. Mostly grays and black with wood and red accents. But it doesn't look hard and mean. The bed is huge, bigger than a California king; a whole group of guys could sleep comfortably on it. It must be custom. And it's comfortable. Every one of your muscles is completely relaxed. You were having a foggy sex dream. You can't resolve all the details, but it was an epic medley of skin and hair and leather, of moaning and restraints and struggle, of sweat and cum and spit. You're not exactly sure of the plot, but you definitely had a very strong feeling of eagerness and desperation, a willingness to do anything for it to continue, a need to submit. The boyfriend's fingers twitch on your little boy dick, and it warms your heart. The way he owns you even in his sleep. He mumbles and lets out a soft moan that goes right to your dick. As it gets harder, he tightens his grip, pulls you into him, and burrows his head into your neck. "Is it morning yet?" He asks "I don't know, sir," you respond, hoping it's not so you can stay there with him. He moans again and pulls you into him tighter. You take a deep breath and ease back to sleep in his embrace. You slowly come back to consciousness with your bf, you sir, enveloping you. As you lay on your back, his head pins your right shoulder to the mattress, and your right arm wraps under and around him to rest on his exposed back. His muscled arm crosses your chest and tucks under your left shoulder blade. The bulk of his torso covers the right side of your body. His bent legs clamp around your waste, pinning your legs straight out. His right thigh presses into your little boy dick, and his meaty junk presses against your right hip. You gently scratch his back, causing him to make soft appreciative moans and nuzzle into you more. Feeling his weight on top of you is one of your favorite feelings. The squeeze is comforting and calming, and the warmth radiates to your soul. It's also a form of restraint, and his restricting and controlling your movement, even from sleep, turns you on a little. The thought makes your little boy dick plump up under his thigh. He must feel it through his sleep because he responds by squeezing you tighter. Now you're making little appreciative moans too. Then he shifts his entire weight, like a large wild animal waking from hibernation. You fear he's going to roll away, and you feel an anticipatory sense of loss. Instead, he lifts up and slides over so he's even more on top of you, pulling the arms and legs out from under you so he can be squarely over you, chest to chest. You lay perfectly still because his eyes are still closed, and he may still be asleep. Then he collapses back down on you, releasing his full heft into your chest. All the air is paused out of your lungs through a sigh. With a few minor adjustments, he returns to stillness. You wrap your arms around him and clasp them together behind him. It feels so good you cry. You revel in the feeling as you slowly fade back to sleep... under your sir. "You're so fucking beautiful," you hear as you wake again to him running his hand through your hair. He's propped up on one shoulder, looking deep into your eyes as you emerge from slumber. A gaunt grin comes across your face, and you lift your head to kiss his sumptuous lips. He presses your head back down to the pillow through the kiss with his lips before breaking away. "How's my boy feeling?" He asks "Fantastic, sir, how about you?" you reply "Proud," he says through a smile. And you give him generous nuzzles. After a little more romantic cuddling, he says, "I'm going to take this collar and the cuffs off so you can get cleaned up. Then I want to have that conversation that I cut off yesterday when you snapped back at me about not being ready to leave the house. So be thinking about it in the shower, boy." You sheepishly nod in reply as he removes the leather shackles and collar. Then you head off to the shower as he makes a sexy whistle at your cute butt. You're transported back to the previous night you step into the warm shower. You exposed yourself as a true faggot, and most of the men there used you in some way. It was an erotic gang bang with something like 30 men all focused on you, clamoring to use you. You took so much dick that your legs gave out and couldn't stand. That's when Sir Steve stepped in to be last to use you. You recall him claiming last dibs because he likes sloppy, used-up boys. By that point, you definitely meet his criteria; in fact, you had gone well beyond it. The men had come to see a spectacle, and you had delivered. Something like 30 men had passed you around. There were dicks everywhere. There were so many, and they swapped out so quickly that you couldn't keep track. You were worn out in the best way, covered in sweat, lube, and cum. This must have been what your dream was about. The memory teleports you back to the moment. You were pounded into submission, dunk on cum, basically a ragdoll sex toy. The men knew exactly what to do and took control of your body as a well-organized group. Sir Steven laid on his back, and five men (one on each arm, leg, and behind the head) picked you up into a hanging seated position. You were glad they did because you lost the energy to stand. Then they lowered you down onto Sir Steven's glorious cock. They held you there in the air while he thrust his member straight up into your sloppy wet hole. You were a living, breathing cocksleve for them. They supported your entire body, but the only part that was of any use was your hole. He fucked all the other loads out of you until your cavity was clean and empty, except for his massive dick. Even though your whole body was basically numb from exertion, you still felt his cock swell and pulse inside you as he buried his load deep. You had been thoroughly loosened up by all the preceding men, but his swelling stretched you even more. His thickness squeezed your prostate against your cavity wall. And his massive mushroom head pushed well past your second hole. He put his load so deep that no cum came out when he pulled out. As the water shower water continues to flow, you recall a shower last night too. Wait, no, it wasn't just a shower; it was a golden shower. The men formed a circle around you and drenched you with their drunken piss. You had never been pissed on. But by that point, you were so degraded that it was a welcome occurrence. You had submitted to so much, lowered yourself so low that all you wanted was to keep going deeper. You didn't just get pissed on by a bunch of men; you thoroughly enjoyed it. You didn't take it resentfully; you bathed in it gloriously, showered in it, rubbing it all around, completely coating your skin and hair. The urinal slave was probably jealous as fuck. The memories make you hard, and you release your morning piss through your boner, the shower washing it down the drain. Relaxation and contentment wash over you, and you feel deep gratitude to your sir and the other men who gave you that fantastic experience. As you start to lather soap all over your skin, your thoughts move on to your sir's instructions to reflect on leaving the house. Your misbehavior yesterday puzzles you. It feels so long ago; what were you even thinking? You weren't ready to leave the house, naked with that word scrawled across your chest, and you had defiantly told your boyfriend and sir "no." You reckon that it must have come from a place of fear. You give yourself some leeway because it was a big step, and you were afraid. But defiance isn't your normal reaction, so something must've been going on. Fear... You think to yourself. Was it fear, or was it doubt? Or was it shame? Emotional vocabulary isn't your strong suit. You continue to ponder rubbing your soapy hands, making sure all the parts of you are clean. Your thoughts about yesterday contrast your physical reality as you start to stroke your dick; you haven't touched your own cock in such a long time; it feels so lovely even though it's small. But you like that it's small because it reinforces your place below real men. And deep down, you don't actually want to touch your dick, even though it feels good. You were there for other men to enjoy, and your sexual satisfaction comes from pleasing them. Sure, you can get yourself off, but it's not the same. Maybe you're thinking about yesterday all wrong, and it's not about you, but the dynamic between you and your boyfriend, your, sir. Maybe the breakdown wasn't about your emotional state but about your emotional state relative to him. He gave you a command, and you didn't follow it. That's all that matters, not what was going on inside of your head. He knows you, knows what you want, and knows what you need, but you didn't trust him... Trust... That was the issue. Conveniently you come to this conclusion as your shower routine is wrapping up. You're not sure that you're ready to confront this with him. It's one thing to process it and accept it in your head; it's another thing to say it out loud. Being a good boy, and being right, are both very important to you, so apologizing for a mistake is very hard because it's admitting a failure on two fronts. But there's no way around this; the only way is to address it head-on. So you steal yourself as you dry off and head back to the bedroom. Your boyfriend looks up from his phone as you enter the bedroom and kneel by the side of the bed. "I'm ready for our conversation, sir," you say as your ass cheeks hit your heels in a kneeling position. Your boyfriend swings his legs around off the bed, sitting on the edge to face you. He is fully nude, and his glorious man cock is right at eye level. He says, "we're on equal footing for this conversation. You're not collared, and you don't have to kneel. I want you to speak freely." "Thank you, sir. I know. But I would rather be kneeling for what I have to tell you, " you say, then continue. "I was reflecting in the shower, and I appreciate your sternness with me yesterday as we were leaving the house. It's exactly what I needed, to be reminded of my place. It was re-centering for me at the time. And I want to apologize for the way that I reacted. I was afraid and doubted your direction and spoke before I thought." You continue as you place your hands on his muscled thighs. "Ultimately, my mistake was more than talking back. It was that I didn't trust you. It was a big step for me, and, like I said, I was afraid. But I know that everything you do is for me and that your orders are a way to develop me into a better person. So, I want to reaffirm that I do trust you 100%, and I will do better next time. And I'm sorry." You finish as you give his inner thigh a little kiss because you think kissing his feet might be a little much after he said that y'all were on an equal footing for the convo. He grabs your chin and pulls it up to look you in the eyes and says, "You're a good boy. I can tell you've thought this through. Now, why don't you kiss my feet to show me how sorry you are" like he was reading your mind. So you lean down and kiss each of his feet in turn. As you return to your seated kneeling position, you notice that his cock is noticeably more full. You held yourself together to get out what you needed to say, but now, a rush of emotions floods over you; you feel deeply in love, a deep connection with your sir. He notices and pulls your man for a big hug, holding your face against his abs and wrapping both his arms and legs around you as you take deep breaths and a tear rolls down your face for the second time this morning. He just holds you tight, rubbing your hair and calling you a good boy until you calm down and release the embrace. Then, as he keeps petting your hair, he says, "You're so many things to me, my little chameleon. You're my love, my bf, my boy, my fem slut, my pup, and now even my fag. But most importantly, no matter what you are on any given day, you are mine." Then, grabbing a bundle of hair in his first, he playfully pulls your hair and shakes your head back and forth. He repeats, "Mine, all mine!" and gives your ass a little slap. You giggle and reply, and with a smile on your face, say, "You're right, sir. I am, sir, I feel all those things; I'm most comfortable when I clearly understand your desires when I clearly understand my role." As he rubs your back, he replies, "Ok then, I'd love it if your keeping being my fag until we go back home; it's so fucking sexy to see you struggle with your inner feelings of pride and see you choose to give in to the debasement." "Yes, sir, I'm surprised how much I like it myself." "I can see how much you like it," as he reaches down and taps your hardening little boy dick with the back of his hand. Then he grabs your chin and pulls your face up so he can look directly at you and says, "But I want to make you understand before you agree that we haven't even remotely found your limits. You've made a huge step by telling all the men here you're a faggot. But acting like one is still going to be hard for your strong-willed self. Much harder than that apology you just delivered. And you will be giving up a lot of control. You'll be ordered to do things, and expected to follow those orders, even when you don't want to. But obeying is part of your submission. Faggots submit." You hadn't thought of that, and it makes you unsure again. He wouldn't be warning you unless he already had plans and knew it would be a problem. "Like what?" You ask "Well, faggots aren't ashamed that they crave, that they live for, real men's dick. Implied in that is that they aren't real men. It's more than just submission. It's subjugation and humiliation, public humiliation. You know, that porn site that we watch all the time. Where the frat boys bring in a boy and haze him, humiliate him, and degrade him while laughing and getting off. That's how men treat faggots... and the faggots like it and want more. " You're not sure you want all that. It's a lot, and like he said, you still have some pride. But as you've found that you actually enjoyed rising to every challenge that's been thrown at you. At first, you were always apprehensive, not sure if you could go through with it. But you let go of that each time. You got into the car naked with "faggot" scrawled across your chest. You followed Orion's commands while being led around on a leash. You were introduced as a fag, then kneeled in front of your boyfriend's friends. And ultimately, you were used as a sex object for a large group of leather sirs. And instead of feeling like you had to relinquish your pride to do all that, you found that submitting actually made you feel more pride in your descent into faggotry. You're not done. You want more. You want to go farther. You don't feel like there is any limit. Like he can read your mind again, he goes on to say, "Seeing you like that makes me so proud of you," and your alignment on this point brings a warm feeling to your heart. You've never felt closer and more secure with him. You respond, "I'm really liking being your faggot, sir. I really appreciate how you've pushed me, and I want more. I'm up for the challenge and trust that you will take care of me, so I think I want to keep being your faggot" "Good boy, but `I think' isn't good enough. We're only proceeding if you `need' this boy." "I do need it, sir; I can't go back." "I'm not convinced; you'll have to beg for it, boy." "Mmmmm, siiiir," you wine, "The thought of not being your faggot anymore is really scary for me. I wanna stay your faggot sooo baaaad. Pleeese sir! Pleeese, Pleeeeese! PLEEEESE!!!" You pathetically plead, trying to make the most desperate facial expression possible. "What would you give to be my faggot, boy?" He asks "Anything, everything, sir," you reposed eagerly "No, be specific, boy. What would you give?" He says with a mixture of a stern voice and facial expression but a casual posture. Leaving back to prop himself up on the bed This request stops you while you think to yourself what specially you would give. What do you have? "I'll give you my body, sir." "Go on..." "I'll give you control of my body; if you don't like where it is, I'll move. If you don't like how it looks, I'll change it." He makes a happy sir grunt, and his dick starts to plump as he seductively says, "Go on..." "I'll give you my pleasure, sir." He grunts again and says, "Oh? How so, boy?" "I'll give you control of how and when I get pleasure. If you want me to suffer, I'll accept your agony. If you want to grace me with your pleasure, I'll bask in ecstasy. And if you want me denied, I'll retract from anything pleasurable while itching for its return." "I'm starting to like the sound of this boy," he says in a husky voice as he starts to softly caress his fully erect cock right in front of your face. Your mouth waters with desire as he asks, "Do you want me to own you faggot?" "You already own me, sir," you reply. "You found the faggot in me and showed me who I really am sir; I'm all yours, sir." "All mine? Everything boy? "Yes, sir" "And what about your attention, boy? Your focus? Is that mine too? We had a mishap with that yesterday as we were leaving the house." "Yes, sir," you reply, "my attention and focus are yours. I can keep it on you, sir." "Say more, boy," he says in an authoritative tone, reaching down to stroke his massive cock. "My default focus will be on you, sir, on your desires, sir, on your goals, pleasure, sir." Then the words came easily, tumbling out of you." In times of stillness, I'll be thinking of ways to please you, sir. And if not, my brain will be blank, sir. I'll work to anticipate your needs, sir. And when you address me, I'll listen attentively and obey." "Good boy, how did I get to be so lucky?" He says, rubbing your head and pulling you into his lap. He asks this question a lot, and it always confuses you. You feel like the lucky one. He makes you feel secure and loved. He does all the work, thinking of creative ways to challenge you and expand your horizons. He found this place and got you in. All you do is obey, and sure, that's hard sometimes, but you feel like you get way more out of being with him than you put in. And the thought makes you commit internally to double your efforts to make him happy. But it must have been a rhetorical question because he interrupts your thoughts, saying. "Ok, boy, let's continue this faggot journey you're on. But we need to put a bow on this conversation to close it effectively and transition you from this state of equality back to my faggot. How should we seal the deal?" You really just want his cock in you, either pushing deep into your throat or stretching your hole open. But you know that now isn't the time, and it strikes you more as a reward than a conclusion. Then you realize that the musk coming out his crotch since he pulled your head into it has been having a strong effect on you. So you nuzzle your nose in deeper and say, "Your scent is a good trigger, sir," and that makes his bone pulse. He says, "ok, boy, let's imprint you with my sir pheromones and get you back in the right headspace. Breath deep. Take it all in. Let that musk penetrate every cell." As he grabs your head and growls. "More, boy, inhale as much as you can, get dizzy for me," he continues as he lets go of your head and reaches across the bed. "Go for it, boy, take in that manly bouquet." He encourages you, and he wraps the collar back around your neck and buckles it. "Your time to take it in is almost up, boy; make sure you get enough," he says as his stench takes its effect. Your inhibitions are falling away, and your willpower is waning. You bury your head in his crotch more, wiping his junk across your whole face, inhaling deep, hoping to smear his smell all over so you can carry it around with you. You're dizzy and lost in it. The pathetic display makes him chuckle. He pushes your head away, saying, "ok faggot, I know you're needy, but that's enough for now. I have one goal for you for the rest of our stay here. All of your actions and tasks stem from this goal. And that's to let go of all those pesky thoughts that bring doubt into your head." Then he continues emphasizing the point with light slaps on the cheeks with each word, "You're my faggot." Then he grabs your head with both hands to look directly at you as he says, "And good faggots don't doubt their status... now tell me I'm right, boy." And you nod and say, "Yes sir, your right." He lets go of you while saying, "ok, boy, let's get going. After you bathe me, we can go down for breakfast. Set out a casual outfit for me and a set of cuffs and knee pads for yourself. Then eat one of those granola bars that I got for you and meet me in the shower," and he heads that way leaving you wondering why you should eat now if you're on your way to breakfast. But you obey. You kneel as you enter the back of the spacious shower. He is facing you with the spray of water hitting his back. Small mist flows around him and settles on you, wetting your skin. His body is gorgeous as it towers above you with little rivulets of water flowing down the valleys between his muscles. A huge smile develops on your face as you take in the site. He takes a step closer, asking, "Want my piss, boy?" And you nod excitedly. He releases it through his plump member, and his warm golden stream hits you in your chest as he makes a satisfied moan. You lower your head to coat your hair and let it flow down your back before looking up so it can hit your face. This is the first you've ever willingly been pissed on. The group of men showered you last night. But they didn't ask. Something about wanting it changes the experience. You revel in the power dynamic. It's a physical manifestation of power exchange. Him releasing and you receiving. The warm steam connects the two of you and washes over you, and it's glorious. You don't want it to end, but it must. As it decreases to a trickle, you move closer, so the drops fall on you. As you hug his leg, he says, "Good boy, doubly marked, first, imprinted with my scent and now tagged with my piss. We'll work you up to drinking it one day." And you take a dry gulp of air at the thought, not sure if you'd be able to drink it. But you'll try it if he wants. You nod yes against his leg, at a loss for words. He cuts into the moment, saying, "ok, boy, shower time, I love this time with you, but I'm getting hungry," so you release and start to prepare his bathing ritual. Bathing him has been something you've been doing for a while as an act of service. It's surprisingly intimate. There is always a sexual edge to it, but it's not always associated with sex, like today. Over the repetitions, you have developed a routine so you both know what to expect. The ritual starts with shampooing his hair with an extended scalp massage. After that, you lather his body wash and lift each arm in turn, scrubbing everywhere, especially his pits, before doing his back, chest, and abs. You trace the contours of his body slowly and seductively with the lather, using the cloth in one hand and your other hand directly. You kneel again to bathe his lower half, moving from ass to crotch to legs, being sure to keep a generous lather and making sure you reach all the crevices. It's always a pleasure to feel his smooth skin and have access to parts that are typically covered by clothes. He stands fairly still through the whole process as you move around him and guide him back and forth into the flow of the showerhead. You're busy, so you can't maintain eye contact, but you glance up to check in with him often, and every time, he is already looking directly at you, watching, supervising the whole event, only commenting if you need correction or direction. You finish with his feet, lifting them one at a time as he studies himself with a hand on your shoulder, finally bowing to kiss each as the official end to the ritual. He towels off as you wait, kneeling and wet for him to pass you his towel when he's done. You use his wet towel as a way to reinforce your position as second to him, then join him in the bedroom, where he is putting on the clothes you laid out for him. As he pulls something out of the drawer, he says, "I had a thought after you talked back the other night, and now I want to try it out." You wait apprehensively as he proceeds to unroll what looks like a sheet of glossy paper. "This is Tegaderm." He says as he cuts off a piece about 3 inches wide and 10 inches long." It's a clear adhesive medical covering,'' he says as he peels a layer of white backing off it, leaving a floppy clear sheet in his hand. "You might have seen it on top of a fresh tattoo, but I have something else in mind," he continues as he steps toward you. He grabs the back of your head with his free hand, holding it steady. You don't resist. With the other hand, he places the strip over your mouth. It sticks on, gluing your mouth shut like a clear piece of duct tape. Then he unceremoniously lets go and resumes getting dressed. You reach up to feel it. It's as smooth as your skin and reaches all the way from one cheek to the other. You can still move your jaw, but not your lips. And you are keenly aware of the sound of your breath through your nose because you can't breathe through your mouth anymore. You try to talk, but your lips can't separate, so all that comes out is "mmmm mmmm mm mmm." "Go take a look," he says, so you move to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. You can't even notice it. You reach up again to feel and hear him say, "No more touching. You're not allowed to do anything that will draw attention to the fact that you're gagged. Think of this as a faggot training tool, like little faggot training wheels, to help remind you not to speak until you've grown enough not to talk back. I don't even want to hear you try to speak." You lower your head in sadness, wondering how you ended up here, and out of habit, you try to reply with "Yes sir," but you can't; only mumbles come out again. His head whips back to you, and he glares at you with a raised eyebrow. You attempt to defend yourself and explain that you weren't disobeying. That you were just trying to say, "Yes sir." But you've already forgotten about the tape again, and it's just mumbled... again. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth in shock and surprise. He forcefully replies, "BOY! I literally just said that you aren't to draw attention to the fact that you're gagged, and you immediately disobeyed me... twice." And AGAIN, you try to protest and explain, but even though you're waving your arms emphatically, you still can't make your point. It's only muffled "mmm mm mmm" noises. "WOW! Again!? You really need this lesson! Position four!" And he snaps and points to his feet. Your first inclination is to continue to protest. You didn't know the rules. He wasn't being clear, and it's not fair that you're in trouble. But there is no point; you've already tried. You begrudgingly get down on all fours with your forehead and lips, or actually, the plastic, resting on his feet. You're having strong feelings of resentment. You had such a nice morning with him, and the connection was so strong. He accepted your apology. Then BAM, he starts spanking your bare ass with a stinging slap. "I'm disappointed in you already." SLAP! "I know it was a big adjustment from your freedom in conversation this morning, but." SLAP! "I expect better." SPANK! "There are consequences for brattiness." SPANK! "I expect you to obey me." BAM! "Wait here." and he drags his foot out from under your lips and steps away. Your emotions swirl. Your ass stings from the impacts. You're pissed, but you're also ashamed. Being a disappointment to him cuts deeper than a physical impact. And you're honestly sorry. But you can't tell him that because of this tape, so you resolve to show him. You resolve to be a better fag for him and internalize this lesson. You decide to accept the clear muzzle as its intended purpose, training wheels, and promise yourself not to make that mistake again. "Back to position 5, boy," he says, and you raise yourself back up to all fours, hands, and knees." He returns with a curved wooden stick that looks a little like a bow and says, "This is a humbler, an apt name because I feel like a little humility is in order," and a sense of dread falls over you. You've seen humblers in some of the more intense BDSM porn, but you've never seen one in real life. You steel yourself for what's next as he shakes it in front of your face. "The next time I hear a sound from your mouth or see you draw attention to the tape in any way, I'm putting this on you." You don't make a peep; just nod your head affirmatively up and down. "That's more like it," he says and smacks your ass, more playfully this time. "Now, throw on some PJs so we can go to breakfast. I worked up quite an appetite last night, and I'm starving."

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/house-fag-at-the-leather-club/house-fag-at-the-leather-club-2

Date: Thu, 20 Jul 2023 21:00:47 -0500 From: Pup Paws Subject: House Fag at the Leather Club -Chapter 2: Now other people know Part 2 Now other people know "Time to get up, boy," you hear as you wake. Every muscle is completely relaxed, but the bed is a total mess of sex toys, wet spots, and leather items. You're not tied down anymore, but your collar, wrist, and ankle cuffs are still on. You remember falling asleep with your sir passed out on top of, and inside of, at the climax of some of the best sex of your life. You roll over to find you, sir, but he's not in the room. Instead, you find a massive wet sticky spot. He probably fucked the cum out of you again. When he really fucks you're good, it sometimes just leaks out, and so much is going on that you don't notice it unless you see it. Or maybe the load he drilled into your ass leaked out after he climbed off you. He usually plugs it in you after with a but plug, but he passed out on you so fast that he didn't get a chance. The wet spot is probably from both, you think, and it brings a huge smile to your face. You live for this feeling of being thoroughly used, a total mess. As you stand, you see the word faggot scrawled across your chest in black marker and more of fuck floods back to your memory. You finally admitted that you are a faggot, more to yourself than to your sir. He already knew. He knows you better than you know yourself. But you were apprehensive. Once he scrawled it across your chest, it somehow was easier to internalize. His filming it all also helped cement it. You feel proud looking at it now; it was a major step. "God, he's a great Sir," you think to yourself as you wonder where he went and what time it is. "Ok, let's go," he says, walking back in, fully showered and clothed. "What‽ I'm not ready." "Yes, you are; you're perfect." "Look at me; I'm a massive mess; at least give me a minute to scrub this slur off my chest." "Nah, you always look great, come on, let's go," he volleys back nonchalantly. "No, I'm not ready," you snap back. He turns to face you head-on. But you don't budge. It's a stalemate for a moment as he raises an eyebrow. Your adrenaline skyrockets, and your mind races. You're his submissive, but you didn't envision this scenario when you handed him control. On the other hand, you also didn't anticipate loudly claiming your status as a faggot directly into a camera, and it felt terrific. How is wearing it on your chest that different? And, you were just thinking to yourself how he's such an awesome dom. He's earned your trust over and over. But you're still a little ashamed of being outed as a faggot. Once the word is out, there is no stopping the rumor mill. Everyone will know. Will it change your relationships with your friends? All those thoughts, and more, flood your brain in a fraction of a second. As you open your mouth to protest again, he closes the gap between you in a single step and wraps his strong hand around your still-sticky little boy junk. Squeezing, he says, "position two ."Your mind stops racing, and you obey... or you try to. He doesn't let go of your package as you bend your knees and try to kneel. You try again, but it just results in more self-inflicted ball-pulling. And he's squeezing even harder now. Your face winces in pain, but he's still just staring at you with the sternest, most dominating expression. Somehow this is turning you on. And he can feel it in the hand that squeezed around your pathetic little boy dick and little boy balls. His squeeze keeps your blood from inflating your dick... keeping you soft, and turning you on all the more. With nowhere else to go, your blood rushes in your little boy spot inside your hole. You feel it get rock hard and giant, begging to get pounded. As the Victorians said, there is bliss in the agony. All that's in your head anymore is the desire to obey. And you realize that deep down, you also desire to obey his original request to go out and show people the faggot written on your chest too. As soon as you finish saying, "I'm sorry, sir," he lets go, and you quietly assume Position Two at his feet. He lifts your chin up, steps on the tiny bit of flesh dangling between your legs, stares into your defeated eyes, and says, "I know you, I know this is hard for you, I know why, and I know you can do it. You need to trust me." That's precisely what you needed to hear. He says, "Speak, boy." The only thing going through your head is that he's right. So that's what you say. "You're right, sir. You know what's best for me. I trust you," and a small tear rolls down your face. You see some movement in his pants. He has to rearrange the growing boner in his pants. You're not the only turned one on by submitting to his will. "We'll have ample time to process this later. But right now, do as you're told, and let's go," he says as he clasps the leash on your collar. You stand back up to follow him, but he jerks the leash back down, saying, "Good boys that obey their sir get the privilege of walking. You crawl," so you crawl as you're led to the garage as your erection betrays how much you're enjoying the subjugation. Your skin is cold against the leather seats as he buckles you in. You're very nervous about someone seeing you naked, cuffed, and scrawled on as you drive through town. But you just told him that you trust him, and you do, so you resolve to obey. He still senses your apprehension and says, " I'm not mad at you. I know you're scared, that's natural, but I think you're going to like this". He pecks you on the cheek and playfully flicks your nipple (the one still bearing his bite marks from earlier), and pulls out of the garage. "So, yes, this is a pool party, but the place is more than just a pool," he says as he pulls up to a stoplight. "Ooookay," you say, a little distracted by an upcoming semi-truck in the lane next to you. "The pool is part of a complex, a private club; it's actually kind of exclusive and hard to get in, not very well known." "Ooookay," you say, again nervously, as the semi-truck stops right next to you. "Sir Steven got me in, this will be a probationary visit for you, and if it goes well, you'll be eligible for membership too," he says. Awkwardly trying to avoid doing anything that would catch the trucker's attention, you ask, "So you're taking me to an interview like this? What is this? Some kind of kink club?" "Well yeah, it's a leather men's club. I told Sir Steven how we wanted to get into the local leather scene. So he agreed to sponsor us." And suddenly, the semi taps his giant horn. You startle and look up to see him wink at you, give you a thumbs up, and rumble off as the light turns green. Meanwhile, your sir keeps talking as if nothing happened. "So all you have to do is be yourself, be a good boy... and you'll need to service a few men '' he throws in at the end. Suddenly your little boy dick is betraying you and getting hard again. He clocks it and asks, "What made you hard? That trucker or the idea of servicing new men?" "...both, I guess," you reply, blushing red with embarrassment as your nipples and the little boy dick harden completely. He spits on his hand and alternates between stroking your little dick and polishing your knob as he says, "See nothing to be afraid of; I knew you'd like it." And all you can do is close your eyes and moan. Later, as you pull onto the property's manicured grounds, surrounded by tall hedgerows, he turns and says, "ok, one last thing. This is a safe space. You don't have to hide. You can be yourself here. If you start getting worried, just focus on being a good faggot. Also, I'm setting the expectation now that you obey the other men in there. Just say yes to whatever you're being asked to do and go with the flow. You can always use your safe word if it gets to be too much. I'll be around even if you don't immediately see me." You take a deep breath and reply, "Yes sir." He pulls up to the building and says, "Here's your door; now be my good boy, hop out and go in for your welcome orientation. I'll meet you inside afterward." You apprehensively approach the door as he drives around the building. It's labeled "Submissive's Entrance." There's no handle, so you push, but it doesn't budge. As you take an unsure step back, a voice from a speaker commands, "kneel for entry." you notice the padded mat on the ground and kneel on it as you've told. For some reason, that makes you chubs, then it grows to a full bone as you imagine everything on the other side of the door. This is your chance to come out of your shell. You've been wanting more people to know your status, and the bf has been teasing you about playing with others for a while. You feel your nipples get hard, and your blue balls tighten and ache at the thought. Then the door opens, and a handsome man steps out. You're snapped back to reality. "Well, hello, boy! Excited to be here, I see," He says, clips a medium-length leash onto your collar, and connects the other end to his belt loop with a carabiner. "I'm not your superior; I'm your host, here to give you a tour and introduce the club. I'll ask that you follow me. Your sir has given instructions that you are to remain tethered until I hand you back over to him." He gives a brief history of the club but sees you trying to hide your little boy dick that's still a little chubs from the boner you sprang on your knees. So he starts by explaining, "The club does not have an official dress code. Your dress is completely at your doms discretion. But for pool parties, Subs generally go nude, except with restraints and their collars. You'll see when you get outside that your dom has steered you well, and I personally think you look great." You start to blush and chub up a little more. He's very perceptive and adroitly says, "I'm glad to see how excited you are to be here. The way you own and proclaim your faggotry is hot af. I'd love to take care of that boner for you, but I don't think your sir would be happy with either of us." and you're a little disappointed because he's so sexy. You were ready to move on when he continued, "But I bet he'd appreciate a little teasing to keep you worked up for him." He moves in real close and presses you to the wall with his hips, pinning your bone straight up. Then he grabs your arm and positions them above your head so he can hold them with one hand. Your heart races. What if someone walks in? ... It would be awesome if they did. He tilts his head and leans in to kiss you. Closer and closer till he... pulls back and puts his finger across your lips, saying, "It's not that easy; you have to earn that privilege," with a maniacal chuckle. All you can do is sigh and shrink. But you can't shrink; he's pinned your wrist, holding you up. He twists your head to the side with his finger and makes a long sigh with his warm breath in your ear. "How bad do you want it?" He whispers with his long hot breath. All you can muster is a "uummuuggghhh" sound. "Not good enough, boy," he responds. And since you can't move your arms, you start humping his clothed chest in desperation and frustration. He keeps his hold but takes one step back, leaving you humping nothing but air. You moan again, "mmmggguuhhhhhh..." desperate for release, desperate to climax, desperate to cum. You lock eyes with him, trying to make your most serious mean face. But you can't, and you just end up biting your lip again as he says, "I already told you, your pathetic moans aren't good enough; you have to tell me how bad you want it." "I don't want it. I need it! I can't even think. I need it so bad my brain is empty. All of my cognition is centered between my throbbing prostate and my Frenulum. Please! Please! Please! "You plead and squirm. "Oh, that's very interesting," he says as he licks his thumb. "Your cognition, you call it. I thought some of it would go here, "he says, as he rubs his wet thumb on your bruised nipple. It makes your hips thrust forward even sharper and stronger, making your feet ground. He continues to play with your nip, pulling and pinching. "Ok, OK, boy! I see now how much you want it, "he says, this time licking his whole palm. He looks at you deeply and says, "This time, don't move, boy. I stop the moment you do. And he grabs your dick with his slick hand. He starts to leave a long, slick stroke when involuntarily and completely unconsciously, you jerk your hips back to pin your ass against the wall as if it was a reflex, like a thing with your kneecap. Before you even realize what happened, he lets go of your wrists, takes a couple steps back, and wipes his hand off on his pants while saying, "Well, that was quick! I figured it would happen, but not THAT fast. Oh well, probably for the best." You're left totally bewildered, your knees are weak, and you have to steady yourself against the wall. You blunder out, "What was that? What even happened?" "Most boys in your condition, that are truly committed to their Dom, and haven't been allowed to get off for a while, know deep in their heart that they prefer a state of denial to orgasm." He explains, "But their brain still wants the euphoria and releases of orgasm, so the brain and the heart get in a fight, and for real submissives, the heart always wins, so if you get one of these boys, legit close, they will switch from wanting it, to not. It's quite a predicament. Isn't it? " he asks. "fuck yeah!" you answer, still out of breath. "it happened before I even knew what was going on, but it makes sense now," you say with a still rockhard little boy dick. "Yeah, you're the most extreme case I've ever seen, ever heard of actually. I barely even touched your dick, didn't even get one stroke; your chest isn't wrong; you're an awesome faggot". "Whew!" you say, regaining your composure. "Look at this thing; it's never going to go down now. " causing you both to break out laughing "you probably don't even want it to, "he says while still laughing. Also, still laughing, your reply, "You're right, I don't; I want everyone to see my awesome faggot dick, haha" As you both stop laughing, you ask, "How did you even know all that anyway?" "reading kink literature, lots of deep conversation with other kinksters, and personal experience," he says as he undoes his fly to show you the chastity cage clamped on his straining dick. "I need this thought." he continues, "because I don't have the discipline, and my brain will sometimes win, and I disappoint myself by jacking off when I shouldn't. This helps keep me honest." "Well, it looks incredibly sexy on you, and I'm glad you found a solution that works for you... And I'm glad I'm not the only one that got hard," You say playfully. "For real, you've definitely got me hard. Or as close as I can get with this cage. I wasn't kidding back there at the door when I said the way you wear on faggotry is sexy as fuck" he says, but it doesn't sound playful. It's real. He breaks the building tension by buttoning up, giving your leash a quick tug, and saying, "Come on, let's proceed with the tour." You're still bewildered, but you quickly snap out of it and follow along. He shows you a few more rooms, including the large hall used for indoor functions like gear night, horsemeat, and an occasional slave auction. He also shows you a hallway that has a black carpet with a red stripe down the middle. It is one of the many entrances to the wing with the private playrooms, and he explains that subs are not allowed there without a dom escort. He also explains that the locker rooms are segregated by hierarchy. Subs are never allowed in the Dom locker room. While the rules allow doms to enter the sub locker room, they generally don't by custom. He continues to show you around, pointing out all the details. It's huge and luxurious. It even has a generous area dedicated to sub prep which is stocked with all the highest-end equipment and supplies a sub might need to get ready for play. He explains that the club is staffed and operated as an all-inclusive resort. All requests for anything from club staff are to be routed through a dom as they govern the club's operations and paid staff. The only exception is alcohol, as subs can get drinks for their doms. He continues the tour by guiding you out to the pool area. As you step into the sun, he explains, "No penetration in the pool area except for special events, and luckily we have one later tonight." As your eyes adjust, you see more men than expected based on the activity inside; they must all be out here. It's a little shocking. You were only expecting to see a few people, but there are probably 40-50, and now you're worried again about your first impression being the giant "FAGGOT" scrawled across your chest. You'd prefer if they got to know you first before finding out your status, but it's too late now. You see quite a bit of diversity in the crowd. Like he said, well over half the men are nude. And those wearing clothes are in various states of undress. There are lots of jocks and exposed asses. Some of the nude ones are collared, and some aren't. Some guys are super masculine with rugged beards, while others are super flamboyant with body glitter. You spot a guy built like a brick house with huge heavy cuffs connected to his massive collar by what looks like an industrial, marine chain. You probably couldn't lift all that metal off the ground. There's a jock with a backward baseball cap in white tighties and knee-high white socks; he's soaking wet and everything and see-through. Then, there's a very waif of a boy with a thin tight necklace (but with a lock), a g-string, and a thin stand being held by a much, much older man that connects back to the necklace/collar. You realize it's all a delicate golden chain. That thing could snap in a mild breeze, which means that boy must be exceptionally well-trained not to ever allow any tension. Your eye also finds a couple guys stationed around in various degrees of rope bondage and someone cramped in a small cage in the middle. You secretly hope to try both those out one day. Some people notice your arrival and start appraising you as your guide breaks in, asking if you have any questions. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name," you start. He replies, "Oh, sweetie, that's perfectly ok; it can be a lot to take in on your first visit. I'm Orion. I'll be here all night; anything else?" "Well yeah," you say, "what's going on with the guy kneeling in that cubby corner?" "Oh, Jerry flags yellow," Orion chuckles. "So he has sorta claimed that spot since he can't go in the doms locker room, but you don't have to be a Dom to use him." "Flags yellow? Use him?" You ask "Oh, sorry, he gets off on piss and likes to be a human urinal," Orion explains nonchalantly. Your eyes get big. "Honesty, I'm a little overwhelmed and nervous, " you admit. "That's totally normal; all these guys have been vetted and are really nice. I think you'll come to feel comfortable here in no time. It's this place's whole purpose; the sex is just the icing on top," Orion says, handing your leash to your bf, who just magically emerged from the crowd. "Come on," your bf says, already three steps ahead of you, pulling on your leash as you struggle to stay upright, say bye to Orion, then navigate through the crowd, unsure what he has in store for you next.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-winning-factor/

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https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/training-chris-and-mark/

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https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/steves-new-life/steves-new-life-3

Date: Tue, 18 Apr 2023 01:30:38 +0800 From: Male Black Subject: Steve New Life - 3 Thank you for your support! Please donate and show your support to nifty stories! Donate at http://donate.nifty.org/ This story, which is entirely fictional, contains slave training between two or more men, violent behavior, humiliation and explicit sexual scenes. The events in this story are purely fantasy. In real life, please show respect and practice safe and consensual sex. If you are not into this, don't read on. Comments, ideas and constructive criticism are welcome. Please write to: nakedblackmale@gmail.com | Twitter: dogslavevj Steve New Life - 3 Orientation Programme Part I "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the sub training school. Please take a seat while we commence the induction programme. As you can see across is a room filled with ordinary human beings that will be transformed into a full submissive slave in a week. Let me introduce myself, I am Master Rick. In this one week, we will be transforming these human beings to a full sub slave. They will lose their rights as citizens in this country, their passport will be canceled, identity cards and any other documents related to them will be seized. They will be your property, owned 24/7, and they will live the remaining of their life as such. As you can see there is a legal document handed over by our slave. You may read the agreement and terms of this contract and please sign it at the bottom of the page." As the slave was handing over the documents, the next room across was filled with the thirty of us. All of us were signed up for the sub programme by our family and some came here out of their own will. A tall dark handsome looking gentleman in his late thirties walked in half naked, with leather pants and boots with a bull whip and whipped on the floor. He then yelled at us, "Strip your clothing and place them in this big blue bin. All your belongings will go into this bin too. You have 60 seconds to do so!" As he started counting, 60, 59, 58, 57.... All of us started to panic. I quickly along with the rest removed our clothing and we ran towards the huge blue bin and threw all the clothes and our bags into the bin. My sling bag contained my wallet, mobile phone and phone charger. The whole room was so busy for that minute. Once we removed our clothing we started to shiver as the room was so cold. We all tried to hide our dick using our two hands. Then the muscular black man whipped on the floor and yelled again, "What are you waiting for?! On your knees! In a single row and face the other room where others could see you. Hands at the back of your head." We quickly kneel on the floor in a single row. The thirty of us are now looking towards the other room filled with our family and friends. The other room could see all of us kneeling on the floor naked. I could see my dad and my two brothers pointing towards me and laughing at me. They held a paper which was the legal document. "Let me go through the agreement once again, so this time the slaves could hear it too." The PA system was a two way channel now the slave room could also hear Master Rick. "Upon signing this agreement by your Masters and Doms, you will be owned by your Masters 24/7. You will be their property for a lifetime. You will be a third class citizen with no human rights, no citizenship in any country. Your citizenship will be revoked, your passport, identity card will be seized. You will have a new name inked on your slave body permanently by the end of this week. So that out there everyone will know that you are a slave and will be treated as such. Also, we will let your master/ owners to do modifications on your fag slave body." All of us started to cry, some started to break down with tears. I saw my dad and my two brothers happily signing the document and handing it over to the slave who was collecting the documents. "Now slave, say your goodbye to your future masters and follow me!". We all went towards the glass and I said my goodbye to my dad and brothers. They were laughing as Damien pointed to my dick and called me a faggot and names. I was so humiliated to stand in front of my brothers and my dad naked. I then followed the rest of the candidates as we exited the room. It was a staircase down to the basement with just cement flooring and very dim lights in the walkway. Once we reached the hallway, it had concrete floors, black walls, and had an industrial feel to it. The lights were very dim red lights on the ceiling and had no windows. The whole basement has a dungeon feel to it. Suddenly six men entered the hall. They seemed quite militant, serious, muscular and all wore the same kind of clothing, black leathered pants and boots with no shirt. I recognised one of them earlier who asked us to strip at the waiting room. One of the men came forward and yelled at us. "Every one of you all, kneel in a single row facing us with your hands behind your head!." Some of the applicants hesitated. Master Joe raised his voice again, "When a superior gives you a command, you obey. NOW on your knees with your fucking hands at the back of your head!." His roar echoed around the hall. All the applicants quickly went to their knees and knelt in front of our Masters. Everyone was scared when we heard Master Joe shout. I could feel the cold of the concrete on my knees. I took this opportunity to look around at other applicants and noticed a good number of slaves were in good shape. "Welcome to the sub training programme! I am Rick, or to you, Master Rick! I and the other masters here will be training you for the next 1 week. We will be overseeing your training programme. Masters here will keep you in check." Master Danny stepped forward and continued, "Throughout this week we will be developing you into the perfect subs. You will need to pass the final test to be a legalized subs. If you don't pass you will be here for another 1 week till you pass all the tests. From this point forward, you will be owned by us. You will be used, you will be punished, you will be degraded and you will be obedient at all times." Master Danny was the black guy who made us strip earlier. Master Bryce took on the lead and told the rest of the slave applicants, "Each day will be dedicated to a different part of sub training. Day 0, which is today we will be your induction. We will bring you slaves around the compound and introduce you to your new home for the next 7 days. We will go through what you are expected to be, daily slave routines. Day 1, we will be focusing on humiliation. Day 2, you will be learning about punishment. Day 3 will be about sexual submission. Day 4 we will explore objectification. Day 5 will be about pet play. Day 6 you will learn about serving and satisfying your Master's needs. Day 7 we will have a review of the week with your mock test. Day 8 will be your test day. The test will be in front of your family/friends or should I say your future Master/Doms in an auditorium or stadium setting. Not to forget there will be 1000s of visitors on that day. Any slaves not owned will be sold to the public or state government to purchase it. After your test will be followed by your medical check-up and body modification if your future Masters decides to modify your fag body before we hand over you to your future Masters/Doms home." The applicants looked stunt and took in all the information. It was a lot to process. Steve never knew the 8 days could be so daunting. Master Joe brought forward a large black briefcase. "During your stay here, you will be collared and you will wear metal cuffs on both your ankles and wrist. Each of you will receive your own individual metal collar with your assigned number on it and metal cuffs. This is to show that you as a slave do not have a real name anymore. This collar will not be removed till the last day. It is also good practice as slave in real life are often collared, so this will help you get used to your attire. When we point at you, you come forward by crawling towards us and be on your knees while Master Mark places the collar on you. Then you will crawl back to your spot." One by one each of us slaves crawled forward to Master Mark. Master Mark placed a collar and cuffs on the slave. I was the 3rd in line and when it was my turn, I crawled towards Master Mark. I went to my knees and faced the floor. Then Master Bryce from the back came to the front and lifted my chin, I felt his cold hands around my chin. "Such a cute handsome boy!" All the other 6 Masters came forward circling me. I then heard Master Mark said "Ahh...this is the slave that Adam was talking about. We have to give special attention to this faggot slave here as Adam's brother owns this slave with his friends." Master Rick then replied making sure all the other 29 slaves could hear "We will then use this number 3 as an example to the other slaves. We expect the best from you 3! We will degrade you to the worst, humiliate you faggot, punish you and train you to be the best slave you can ever be!". All the other Masters laughed while Master Mark placed the collar. It was a silver-coloured metal with "#3 PROPERTY OF SUB TRAINING PROGRAMME" inscribed on it. He opened the metal collar. It swung on a small hinge. He closed it around my neck and slipped a padlock through the holes in the front, locking it in place. It looked secure but not too tight around my neck. This will not allow us to remove the collar in any way. Followed by the wrist and ankle cuffs. "What do you say to Master Mark #3?" Master Joe asked, lilting his voice. "Thank you Master Mark," I answered, looking down at Master Mark's leather boots. Master Bryce came forward before I could complete saying MasterMark, Master Bryce slapped across my face. I dropped from my kneeling position. He grabbed hold of my hair and spat his saliva on my face. "The next time any slave doesn't thank their Master, this is what you will get! Now get back to your line number 3!". I felt so humiliated as my face started to turn red and Master's salvia dripped all over my face. All the other slaves saw me getting the slap from Master Bryce. I turned and crawled back to the line and remained on my knees till every slave was collared. This took about thirty minutes. Once everyone was done I heard Master Rick again, "Next, is chastity cage! All slaves here will be locked in a chastity cage to prevent from cumming and fucking one another. slaves are only here to serve your masters and fulfill their needs. Your cock is redundant and is a useless body part." Master Mark called out the slave number one by one, we crawled to get ourselves dick caged by Master Andy. I was called, Master Andy placed a metal ring base on my scrotum and placed the chastity cage in place and locked it with a metal lock. There was no way our cock would be able to come out of the chastity cage. The cage fitted so well that our penis is not able to erect fully. I thanked Master Andy and crawled back to the line. This whole process took about 1 and a half hours. Once all 30 of us applicants were collared and caged, Master Danny told us, "Good, from now on you will only be called by your slave number. This is your new name for the next 7 days. When any Master calls you by your number, you will respond by crawling towards your Master quickly and kiss your Master's left and right boots 3 times. This will be your normal state, naked, collared, caged and being on your 4s. You only will stand if your Master gives you permission, during punishment and serving your master. There should be no excuse for you slaves to stand as slaves only crawl from point to point." Master Andy then told us, "it's time for slaves to recite and memorize the slave creed. But before that you need to learn your position training. It is important for slaves to learn and present themselves correctly. You must carry yourselves appropriately. Your stance and your posture are a reflection on your owners. A well-presented slave means a well-respected norm. Your first lesson will be to learn the slave positions. The first is to kneel, which you will be doing a lot of as the sub's proper place is on the floor. Every slave must remember the different positions as it will be tested on your last day. Now all slaves crawl towards the X marking on the floor." Each X marking was 1 meter away. Each of us slaves crawled towards the X marking, creating a single row facing our masters. Master Bryce came forward and continued "slave kneel on your knees, spread wide across and your hands crossed back of your head now!" All of us followed Master Bryce's instructions. We all could feel the cold cement concrete floor as we kneel. "Good, this is called the exposed position. Most of the time when you're doing nothing or waiting you will be at the exposed position. Remember to keep your back straight, spread your knees wide and look up. Masters should be able to see your chest, nipples and chastity cage from the front and your straighten back and your fag ass from the back view. As slaves you need to be exposed 24/7 to norms like us." The other masters walked around with a bull whip on their hands. They walked pass every slave to make sure our back was straightened. "Whack!" We all heard the loud noise and shivered. It was #29 slave. He screamed in pain and dropped from his position. He quickly got back to exposed position and straightened its back after releasing its mistake. "As you can see number 29 got its first punishment for not listening to its master! Obey and you will be rewarded. Disobey and you will be punished severely." Master Ryan shouted. "Good slaves! Now the next position will be display. Your head on the floor, kneeling and spreading your legs and both hands behind on each ass cheek spreading your asshole wide open. Let your masters see your faggot hole" instructed by Master Joe. The masters walked past all the slave applicants and Master Joe stopped near me and touched my asshole. "You must be tight number 3! By day 8 I'm sure your hole will be wreaked and dripping from cum you little cum slut. You will be a hungry cum slut faggot slave that you will want everyone's cum by the end of this training. I'm going to make you an example of everyone here number 3!" I replied "Yes!" Master Joe stopped playing with my hole and took the bull whip and whacked across my ass. I went straight to the ground and screamed in pain. "You will address us as Masters! Now go back to the same position and I want you to apologise loud so that everyone could here you faggot!" I then shouted, "I'm sorry Master. I'll be your obedient fag slave Master!. I'll address you and other Masters here as Master!" Everyone could hear me scream. I didn't want another bullwhip. My ass was burning in fire. Master Joe whipped me the 2nd time, "Whack!" I went to the ground again. "Glad you learn your lesson faggot now open your mouth!" As Master Joe came to the front and tilted my face and spat on me. "Go back to your position faggot!" I went back to the display position. All the other Masters were walking around to check on other slave. Number 2 and number 4 slave heard me sobbing in tears but they pretended not to hear. After 5 minutes of being in the display position, Master Ryan then told us to squat. "Now you will squat with your feet wide apart, hands stretched fully forward, palm facing upwards, tongue outwards. This is called a hand position. Hand position gives the masters the right to cane your hands for punishment." After this 3 positions, Master Danny then told us to be at an exposed position and wait until the masters come back. All 6 masters left the hall for about 20 mins. No slave moved or talked to one another. All of us were so scared of the bullwhip. Once they were back, 2 masters were setting up the big projector in front of all the slaves. Loud speakers were installed on the ceiling. "Now it's time you faggot slave learn your prayers. You will recite your prayers every morning once you wake up, night before you sleep and before every meal. It is essential for slaves to remember this mantra. It is the very essence of what a sub is. It explains your existence in this room, in your potential owner's home, and in society at large. Keep this mantra in your mind and soul and you will become a completely fulfilled sub. This is the moment of your sub enlightening." Master Ryan hit the remote and the screen flashed on the projector. It was lines of a statement. "All Read aloud! If I catch anyone not reading you will get 10x bull whips at the end of this." Master Danny warns all of us slaves. All the slaves echoed together aloud, "I am not a man. I am a sub. I have no rights, liberties, or freedoms. I am owned by my Master, my Dom, my owner. My body and mind are not my own. They belong to my owner. I shall be obedient at all times. I shall be submissive at all times. I shall be available at all times. I deserve to be humiliated. I deserve to be punished. I deserve to be used sexually. I deserve to be objectified. I deserve to be a pet. I deserve to serve. I am happy to submit to my Master, my owner, my Dom. Their happiness brings me joy. Their sadness makes me sad. Their needs are my needs. Their wants are my wants. I am nothing without my Master, my owner, my Dom." The room was in silence. Then the screen played again with the same lines. "Again!" Master Bryce yelled. We recite this over and over. All the slaves lost count of the number of times we repeated this mantra. It was about 20 mins and we were still reading out the mantra. "Savour every line you faggots! Understand each word; Let it enter your mind; Let it fill your soul; This is who you are; This is who you are meant to be." Master Ryan told us. All the other masters headed off to relax at their lodge. After 4 hours, we were still reciting the slave prayer. We didn't know the time and we were so thirsty and exhausted. Our knees were burning and some of the other slaves were wobbling their knees. After 4 hours, the 6 of the masters came back. Suddenly the projector went off but we still did not stop reciting the mantra. After 30 mins, Master Bryce told us "good slaves, I see that you can remember the mantra by heart! Now time to make break you faggots even further!" To be continued in Steve New Life 4 - Orientation Programme Part II Steve New Life 5 - 12 (Training Day 1 - Training Day 8) Steve New Life Characters - Introduced in Chapter 1 - Steve, Jos h, Damien, Dad & Mum, Mike and Cody Introduced in Chapter 2 - Adam, Ray and Charles New Characters in Chapter 3 - Master Rick - An American White man in his 30s, Muscular, good looking, with a huge chest. Usually wears Leather pants and Boots. One of the Six Master's to train new sub slaves in the training school. Master Danny - A Black Master, muscular in his 40s. Usually wears leather jockstrap and boots. One of the Six Master's to train new sub slaves in the training school. Master Mark - In his late 20s, White American with lean body, abs and chest. Blonde hair, loves to tease slave and enjoy punishing slave. One of the Six Master's to train new sub slaves in the training school. Master Bryce - A ex-marine trained officer, who is in his late 40s. Very muscular with gray hair. Very fierce looking, most sadistic. Usually wears leather shoulder straps, leather pants and boots. One of the Six Master's to train new sub slaves in the training school. Master Ryan - In his mid 20s, one of the youngest masters. Usually wears striking colour jockstrap and leather boots. Most kinky. One of the Six Master's to train new sub slaves in the training school. Master Joe - A black master in his mid 30s. Loves to humiliate and whip slaves. Usually wears leather jockstrap and boots . One of the Six Master's to train new sub slaves in the training school. PS: Thank you for your support. I've received many emails from readers that they really love this series. So sorry for the long wait. Steve New Life 4 will be coming out very soon by the end of this month! To complete off the sub orientation programme with hair cut/ shaving/ eating/ daily routines etc. If you have any ideas, please email me and I'll see how it goes. Who knows, I may even input your ideas.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/three-guys-in-berlin/three-guys-in-berlin-2

Date: Fri, 12 Jan 2024 11:04:14 +0100 (CET) From: 74775@tutanota.com Subject: Three Guys in Berlin - 2 Three Guys in Berlin - 2 Thank you to Nifty! Please consider donating: https://donate.nifty.org/. Enjoy this piece of fiction. Do not do irresponsible or illegal stuff. Happy to get your ideas and comments. Luke and Chris had been dating for a few weeks, and they seemed to be a perfect match for the outside world: Luke was a handsome and charismatic man, who always knew how to charm people with his confident smile. He was excellent in leading others. His sexy looks and his cocky attitude cast a spell on people. Chris was good looking, maybe not the radiating presence of Luke, but still, many admired him for his looks. He was smart. He was a friendly guy. People liked him. Chris worked as a manager at a fancy museum in Berlin. He had a passion for art and design. It was a bit unclear what Luke actually did for a living. He spent his days enjoying his life. When the two of them were out together, others thought them to be an awesome couple. Little did they know of what the real status was. Chris was Luke's slave, wearing a slave collar, his cock being locked, caged when at home. Luke demanded absolute obedience, and Chris was willing to show it. When going out, he often had to wear the slave collar and the chastity belt. Hidden, most of the times. Not always. Chris often asked himself whether Luke really loved him, but he never dared to ask directly. The truth was pretty simple: Luke had always loved submissive servants. He was fond of Chris' intellect, his strategic skills, his good looks, and his very tight hole. But above all, Luke loved himself, and Chris was a perfect match in this regard too: He mirrored and pushed that self-love and made Luke lead the life he wanted. Chris felt that this was what he was there for: Serving Luke and Luke's life. Day by day, the desire to serve grew stronger. Affording the lavish lifestyle that Luke loved led Chris to think about his job. Luke thought that Chris was wasting his potential at the museum, anyway, and that he should look for a more rewarding job. When they discussed this at the start of the new year, Luke argued compellingly that Chris needed a better-paying job. Chris was unsure, but Luke's stern look made all arguments so true for Chris. Luke told him that he deserved better, that he was proud of him if he was able to secure a better job. He also told him that he would be happier and more fulfilled. He made Chris feel special and appreciated. Chris started to agree: Yes, he wanted a new job with a better pay. He wanted to make Luke proud of him. But he also loved his museum, the design, the arts. He asked Luke whether he could call his old friend Jay to discuss a job change. Luke agreed and gave Chris his mobile. Jay had wanted to come as soon as possible to Berlin to see them, but it was difficult. January was a tough month at work for Jay, then there was a strike when he was about to go, so he had to postpone. "Hey Jay, how are you?" "Chris, how are you? Or rather: Slave, how are you?" Chris laughed sheepishly and wondered how his best old friend mustered the courage to call him slave directly. But then, after the events in the bar right before Christmas... He asked Jay about what he thought about a job change. Jay had often been a good adviser in such questions. But his reaction this time startled Chris. "What does the Master say?", was the first thing Jay asked. "Eh, how do you mean?" "Does Luke want that job change? Does the Master approve of it?" Chris was irritated that Jay called Luke "Master", and also that this was his first concern -- not asking other things, for instance, what Chris himself thought about it. "He wants it. Very much." "So, why do you ask? He knows best what you need, doesn't he?" This took Chris off-guard. Did Jay accept, just from a one-time-meeting, that Master Luke now held his life in his hands? His best old friend had accepted this dominance -- just like that? Chris thought again whether there was some jealousy in this, but no. Jay had stated it, very matter of fact. Maybe Jay knows me much better, Chris thought, than I know myself. He loved Jay for that. Jay had brought that slave collar as a present. He had discovered the submissive side of Chris without it being obvious. Now, with Luke in his life, it had become obvious. "Look for a good pay. Master Luke will love that, I guess", Jay said. They did some easy talking, Jay jokingly asked how Chris' cock felt, how often he was allowed to come, whether he was proudly wearing the collar, whether people had asked him about it. He also wanted to know a lot about Luke. Chris enjoyed that conversation and it became much easier from one minute to the next to openly report of his new life as Luke's slave. It was great to have a mate to share this experience with. After the call, Chris was determined. Yes, he loved Luke, and he wanted to make him happy. He agreed to change jobs. He applied for a position as a project manager at a big consulting firm, and he got hired after a rigorous interview process. He was excited to start his new career, but he also felt nervous and sad about leaving his old one. The new job was much harder than Chris expected. He had to work long hours, deal with demanding clients, and learn new skills. He felt stressed and exhausted, but he tried to hide it from Luke. He wanted to impress him with his achievements and income, and he hoped that Luke would appreciate his sacrifice. With ever longer working hours, he had no idea how Luke spent all day. Luke praised him for his courage and ambition. He very much enjoyed the benefits of Chris's new job: They bought more fancy clothes, expensive gifts, weekend trips, fine dining, exclusive invitations. Chris had offered to have his salary transferred to an account overseen by Luke. Luke had loved that idea. Chris felt that Luke saw him as a very valuable catch. And what a power-ride it must be for Luke to turn self-confident and smart Chris into a loyal slave within weeks! Chris felt happy too. While he hated the long working hours, leaving Luke for most of the day, he always had a strong feeling of love and admiration for his Master. He would certainly have had multiple orgasms every day, had he not been blocked by the cock cage. His mind was revolving around Luke. On his tongue he always tasted the juicy cream of Luke that he got every morning. It had become a ritual for them: Chris had to crawl to Luke's feet and caress and lick them for a while after waking up. When Luke was ready, he snipped his fingers and Chris moved further up the godly body of the young, blond, tall lad. Chris then usually had to take Luke's piss and drink it all without spilling a drop on the sheets. Chris had to learn this, he had not much experience with this kind of service, but now, after some weeks, he was a pro. After this, Chris got his great reward. He was allowed to suck that long and beautiful tool of Luke. This was a moment of pure pleasure, running with the tongue along that shaft, then gulping the mushroomed cockhead and taking it in very deep. He gave 100 % and felt it deep in his throat. It took a couple of minutes before Luke was ready to shoot. His morning loads were strong, intense and massive. Chris loved every drop of it. When he did well, Luke kissed him and patted his head. Sometimes, he was even allowed to come himself, but that had happened only once or twice so far. If Luke was not so satisfied, or if Chris had spilled some of the juice, or if Luke simply wanted to enjoy some Alpha pleasure, Chris was punished. For this, Luke had a long whip next to bed. Chris had to stand up at the end of the bed, turning his naked back to Luke. Without even getting up, Luke was able to swing the whip. It whirled briefly in the air and then slammed down on his servant. Chris counted how often his back and ass were hit. Luke laughed at this sight. After this morning routine, Chris hurried to work, while Luke turned back to sleep. One night, Chris took Luke to a work-related event, where he had to meet some potential partners and investors at the luxury Adlon hotel. The event was attended by many influential and attractive people, business, politics, society. Chris had bought an incredibly sharp outfit for Luke. Luke heavily enjoyed it to be there, and he quickly mingled with the crowd. He charmed everyone with his charisma and his looks, and he soon became the center of attention. Some young and awesome people got flirty with him, and he flirted back. Even heterosexual men and boys were completely fascinated by his presence. Luke felt a rush of excitement and joy. Later at night, Chris was busy talking to some important business people, when he noticed that Luke was surrounded by a smaller group of hardcore admirers. He felt a pang of jealousy and worry, and he wanted to join him. He excused himself from the conversation, and he walked towards Luke. He saw that Luke was laughing and touching one of the guys, who was very good-looking. It was a smashing young man. Chris felt a surge of anger and hurt, and he wondered if Luke was cheating on him. Chris knew that he was a slave and that Luke's desires were first, but still, this was getting him frustrated. He reached Luke, and he tried to act casual. He smiled and said hello to the group, and he introduced himself as Luke's boyfriend. He hoped that Luke would acknowledge him and show him some affection, but Luke barely looked at him. He said hi and then turned back to the other person, who smiled smugly at Chris. Chris felt humiliated and betrayed, and he wanted to leave. He asked Luke if they could go, but Luke said that he was having fun and that he wanted to stay. He asked Chris to go and get drinks for him and his new friend. Luke didn't bother to introduce his latest acquisition to his boyfriend and slave. Chris felt so humiliated, he felt like he was being dismissed. But he obeyed. He went to the bar, and he ordered two drinks. When he turned around and wanted to bring the drinks to Luke he saw that Luke was gone. He asked a very young waiter, and he learned that Luke had left with the person he was flirting with. He felt a tear roll down his cheek, and he wished that things were different. The handsome young waiter tried to cheer him up and even touched him casually at his thighs, but Chris was thinking of Luke and asked himself whether it was right that he had ended up in such a relationship. Was this what they called toxic? Chris felt miserable, when his phone rang. He looked at the screen, and he saw that it was Jay. He answered the call, and he heard Jay's cheerful voice. "Hey, Chris-Slave, how are you? I miss you, man. How's the new job?" Chris felt a wave of nostalgia and warmth, and he smiled. "Hey, Jay, I'm fine. I miss you too. The new job is... okay, I guess." "Okay? Just okay? Come on, you're a star. You must be killing it." Chris sighed. "Not really, Jay. It's hard. It's not what I expected. I don't think I belong there." "What do you mean? You're smart and talented. You can do anything you want." "No, Jay. I can't. I don't enjoy it. I don't care about it. I miss the museum. I miss the art. And I miss people like you." Jay was silent for a moment, then he said: "Wow. Cheer up, mate! I know you love feeling unsatisfied in your jobs, but it pays so well! What is that noise, are you partying again?" "I'm at the Adlon, some business party here..." "The Adlon! I love it! Do they have that waiter there, this 17-year-old chick we once met at the Adlon's café?" "He has just been caressing my thighs." They both laughed. "There you go," he said, "and still a voice as if you were at a funeral." "Maybe I am," Chris said, but Jay had none of that. "Come on, you have an awesome boyfriend, you even have a lewd master, and even better, that is one and the same person. You have a great-paying job, an indecent waiter just became physical -- and you have me! Chris, I do not want to keep you for too long from that waiter boy, so let me just tell you I am coming over next week. Boys of Berlin, I'm coming! Want to see you, and Master Luke of course! Are you down for it?" "Yes, sure!" Chris said. He smiled. "I will inform Master Luke and get back to you what suits him best." "Great! So see you soon and enjoy your night!" "Bye, Jay, love you." "Love you too, Chris-Slave!" Chris looked at the mobile phone. He looked at the drinks in his hands. He thought about Jay, about Luke. Suddenly, the young waiter leaned in to him and whispered into his ear. "Why don't you follow me for a second?" Chris did, and the waiter swiftly moved behind the bar. He opened a door that was barely visible in the dark. It led into a small room, hidden from the eyes of the partying guests. "I do not have much time,", he said. With that, he kissed Chris and let his hand slip into his pants. He felt the cage around the cock. "Oh, wow, you are caged? But you still have a cute ass, right?" He made Chris lick a finger and moved it quickly into Chris' ass, all the time kissing him. This felt so good for Chris. He had that cutie of an Adlon-waiter fingering him and kissing him. The waiter boy was sporting a major boner in his pants. He definitely wanted the whole thing. He wanted that ass of Chris. He started to open his pants and prepared to slide his cock bare into Chris' hole. But Chris refused. He pushed the horny teen away. "Hey, what's up, mate?" "I am so sorry, I have no permission to be fucked." "You need permission to be fucked?" "Sorry, I cannot explain." Chris quickly dressed again and left the startled waiter in that dark room. He washed his hands, and he looked into the mirror. Yes, he had done the right thing, he thought. The waiter was cute but he had a higher purpose in life, he reassured himself -- serving Luke. Luke would not have approved of the waiter entering him without permission. When Chris returned to the ballroom, he grabbed the two drinks. He saw that Luke re-entered again. He had one arm around the young smashing boy. The boy's hair looked ruffled. They both looked happy, but exhausted. They came to Chris. Maybe, Luke was high, but it was hard for Chris to tell, maybe he was just so excited and a bit drunk. "Our drinks," Luke said and grabbed the two glasses and gave one to his companion. He took a sip. "Oh, mine is warm, that should be icy! Yours too?" His fling nodded. Luke turned to Chris: "I'm disappointed, slave! You can do better than that!" Had he really called him his slave in front of that other guy? Chris was turning red. What was this? He was anxious. Oh my god. This is going too far! This is a business event, and his boyfriend-turned-master had just called him a slave! But then, he also felt his blood pumping into his cock that was so well kept. Thoughts were rushing in his submissive brain. After a moment of shock, Chris uttered: "I'm so sorry, Master!" He hurried to get two new drinks. He saw how Luke and his boy laughed and fondled with each other. The young waiter was now at the bar. He mixed the drinks for Chris without saying a word. When he returned to Luke, the smashing boy had gone. "Where is he?", he asked. "We were done. Sent him home to mommy", Luke said. "Take his drink", he generously said to Chris. Luke gave him a broad smile, and Chris instantly fell in love again with this blond hunk. Chris was thankful. "Awesome party, Chris, don't you think so? See, your job really pays off!" Chris nodded. "Now, get us a car, I need to rest," Luke said. Chris did as told. In the car, Luke put off his shoes, he spread out on the backseat, and started to play with his feet around Chris' cock. "One day, this may come off," Luke said when kicking the lock with his feet. "But I really need to be sure that I can trust you one hundred per cent." Chris nodded. He understood this. The driver looked into the rear mirror but did not dare to say anything. "Jay is coming to Berlin next week", Chris said. "Do you have time to meet?" "Jay, this hot and horny friend of yours? I surely have!", Luke exclaimed.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/bodybuilder-in-the-industry/

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https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/three-guys-in-berlin/three-guys-in-berlin-6

Date: Fri, 2 Feb 2024 17:33:53 +0100 (CET) From: 74775 (at) tutanota.com Subject: Three Guys in Berlin - 6 Three Guys in Berlin -- 6 Thank you to Nifty! Please consider donating: https://donate.nifty.org/. Enjoy this piece of fiction. Do not do irresponsible or illegal stuff. Happy to get your ideas and comments at 74775 (at) tutanota.com. --- As Luke, Chris, and Jay touched down on the tarmac of Gran Canaria's airport, a wave of heat and humidity washed over them like a tidal wave. They were in the sun, wow! A Mercedes was waiting for them. Amir who was the friend of Luke who owned the villa where they would be staying had sent a driver to pick them up. The driver did not speak a word. He was a good-looking young man, somewhere from the South. He had a septum, and his hair was dyed blond. His crew jacket read "Owned and operated by Master Amir" on the back. Chris also noticed a tattoo on his neck: SoA. Luke and Jay were cuddling on the back seat. "I would love to see your hair dyed, Jay", said Luke. "Never tried", said Jay, "nice thought!" They kissed each other. The villa itself was a marvel of modern architecture. A pool snaked its way through the property, inviting the three men to cool off after a day in the sun. It had a private beach as well. Amir's driver pulled up to the villa where a tall, dark-haired man with a friendly smile awaited them, introducing himself as Hakim. "Welcome to Master Amir's home," he said, opening the car door for Luke and Jay. "Master Amir asked me to take care of you while you're here." Luke, Jay and Chris instantly felt welcome and at home. Hakim had managed to exude an atmosphere of hospitality and friendliness with just his smile and a few words. This would be a fantastic week! Hakim led them through the villa, pointing out the various amenities and bedrooms. The master suite, he explained, was reserved for Luke, as per his friend's wishes. Jay would stay in the adjacent room. There was a door between the two rooms that only Luke could open. Chris would have another room, a bit more modest, for himself. When showing the room for Chris, Hakim said with the greatest kindness: "If he is to be chained up, we have facilities in here." He pointed to hooks on the wall. Chris also saw that there were different kinds of whips available in the room, but safely secured. "Who is taking the key for the extras?", Hakim asked. "Jay, maybe you want to make sure Chris stays good?" Jay hesitated, but then he accepted the keys from Luke, exchanging glances with his old best friend Chris. The next morning, the three men awoke to the sound of the ocean and the warmth of the sun on their skin. After a leisurely breakfast on the terrace overlooking the beach, they decided to take a dip in the pool. The water was cool and refreshing, a welcome respite from the heat. As they swam and played around, they couldn't help but notice the discreetly hidden cameras around the pool, a reminder that they were being watched. It sent a thrill through their bodies. "Who is Amir, what does he do?", asked Jay. But Luke only gave vague answers. He promised they may meet him some time. Instead he suggested they spend the week as the threesome they were. And they had an incredible time! They enjoyed good food, drinks, the beaches, the pool, the handsome Hakim who was so discreet but ever there when needed -- and they had sex all the time in different constellations. Chris was mostly relieved of his subservient duties, apart from regularly drinking the piss of Luke and the other parts of the morning routine. Luke and Jay behaved like lovers. Chris was a bit jealous, but then he saw how they clicked and he was happy for them. He had to wonder at himself that he had once imagined he could be in love with Luke at eye level! On the second day, while they were lingering around the pool, Hakim approached them. "Master Luke, the requested services have now arrived!" "Oh, awesome! Jay, I've got a surprise for you. Why don't you follow Hakim?" "What's up", asked Jay. "Surprise, darling!", said Luke. Jay got up and followed Hakim. Luke and Chris watched him. Jay really was in shape, his body was tanned and the pink speedos showed his sexy ass when he walked behind Hakim. "What is he down for?", asked Chris, but Luke did not reveal. "You are next! Get to my feet in the meantime and lick them real well!" It took much longer than Chris had anticipated, but he was busy servicing Luke all the time. After two hours, Jay returned. Luke and Chris were stunned! Jay had a new hair cut and his hair dyed -- just as Luke had suggested the day before. Hakim accompanied him. "I hope this is what you had expected, Master Luke!", he said. "Absolutely!", Luke said. Jay turned around like a proud little boy and showed off his new look -- which was awesome. "Thank you, Luke!", he said and got on his knees to kiss Luke who was lying on a deck chair. Luke looked approvingly at Jay and ruffled his hair. "Why don't you thank me by giving me a real good blowjob while Chris gets his new look?" He pushed Jay to his crotch. Jay happily complied. Chris went off with Hakim. "Get going", Luke said, "this won't take so long." Jay started to service Luke's cock. Luke had not even come, when Chris returned with Hakim. Jay did not spot it at once, since he had expected a new haircut. But that was not it. Chris now had a septum. He was pierced in his nose. The metal ring was gleaming in the sun. "Awesome!", Luke exclaimed. "You like it, Jay?" Jay let go of Luke's cock and looked at his old best friend. It was impossible for him to tell how Chris felt. It definitely was a humiliation for Chris. Sure, many guys in Berlin had a septum now, but with the slave collar it was obvious that this was a slaveboy. But then, Jay also felt how his cock loved that look. "It's awesome", he mumbled. "Good." Luke said and pushed Jay's head back to sucking him off. And only took a minute before he shot his load into Jay's throat. "Proud of you, my boys", Luke said when looking at the now blond Jay and the ever more slave-like Chris. On their third night, Hakim invited them to go to the dunes in the evening. As the sun set, casting its warm glow across the sandy shores, Master Luke, his slave Chris, and their friend Jay followed Hakim to the dunes. They could hear the rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore. Hakim led them to a secluded spot where the dunes rose up like massive waves. "Enjoy yourselves," he whispered. "I will pick you up again later." They could see shapes moving in the shadows, silhouetted against the now starlit sky. The sounds of grunts and moans filled the air, a primal symphony. Without a word, Master Luke released Chris from his grip, allowing him to wander out into the night. With a flick of his wrist, he sent Jay stumbling after his slave, his own erection straining against his shorts. As Chris made his way through the sand, he was approached by a tall young man, probably a teenager, with blond hair and piercing eyes. The stranger ran his hands over Chris's body. They kissed passionately, their tongues dancing together in the darkness. Their hands roamed freely, exploring each other's bodies, teasing and taunting. Chris felt awesome. He had not experienced such equal sex for a while. Luke watched from a distance, he enjoyed how Chris started to make out with that complete stranger, even if he was so good-looking. When he had got to know Chris in Berlin, he was not that explicit. Luke could feel Jay's presence nearby. He turned to face Jay, their lips meeting in a fierce, hungry kiss. Their tongues tangled together, and Luke felt Jay's erection pressed against his hip. He moaned into the kiss, his hands finding their way under Jay's shirt, caressing his smooth, bare back. As they kissed, another figure emerged from the darkness. He walked over to where Luke and Jay stood, their bodies pressed together. "You'll want to watch this," he whispered in Luke's ear. He took him by his shoulders and led Luke and Jay to join him in the dunes. He took them to another spot, and then they saw it: Chris was on his knees, surrounded by a group of men whose eyes were full of lust and power. Chris was held in place by that blond teenager. He now exuded an air of confidence and dominance that was unmistakable. The young man looked like a tamer in the arena who was about to throw the gladiator to the wild animals. The beasts were still under control, but they would soon take Chris. They were already playing with their cocks. They were ten or so. Jay gasped. He looked at Luke questioningly. Was that really okay? But Luke seemed really excited. He started to stroke his cock. The soft sand shifted beneath his knees as Chris knelt in the warmth of the dunes, his muscles straining from maintaining his precarious position. His master, Luke, stood nearby, his gaze fixed on the scene before them. Now even Jay chuckled softly, clearly starting to enjoy the spectacle. Chris closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the rough hands of the teenager on his head who now opened the games. The strangers came and Chris was to service them with his tongue. He sucked, drawing them deeper. One by one, they released themselves into his mouth, their hot seed spilling down his throat, filling him up and leaving him gasping for breath. They did not care, they were wild animals, enjoying the Berlin boy who was now a cock-whore in the dunes of Gran Canaria. Some hammered in their tools like no good. When they were finished, they pulled away, their eyes bright with lust and satisfaction. When Chris had serviced the last of the ten cocks, he lay down on the ground on his back, completely exhausted from the massive loads of cum that he had had to swallow. Now, some of the men came and pissed on him, and the blond teenager ordered him to catch as much as he could with his mouth. When they were done, the teenager blinked at Luke. Luke stepped near, smiled down at his slave, his own arousal plain to see. "You did well, slave," he murmured, his voice low and gruff. "You've pleased our friends. I think you have passed this test well." He nodded at the teenager. The teenager grinned broadly. He placed his foot on Chris' chest. "I think you owe me for this teaching," the cocky teen said to Luke. "If you want him back you have to pay." Luke laughed at the young and dominant teen. He loved this, and he saw a younger version of himself in it. "You want to blackmail me?", Luke said. "So, keep him... He is so used now anyway, I'm gonna takes something fresh." With that he kicked Chris hard into his side. Chris and Jay didn't believe what they heard, and Chris moaned hard when his master kicked him. Luke enjoyed the show. "I'm just kidding, boys." He caressed the blond teenager. "He's my paymaster", and he pointed at Jay. "Jay, won't you do that for your friend Chris to release him from this supermaster here? Go, service him as he wishes!" With that he pushed Jay in the back, causing him to stumble forwards in the sand. It was easy for the teenager to push Jay to his knees. Jay had no chance. Within a second, the teenage cock was in his mouth and he got a good throat-fucking. While burying his tool in Jay's mouth, the teenager started kissing with Luke. He thoroughly enjoyed. After a while, he broke the kiss and asked Luke: "Why don't we take both his holes?" "He's an alpha boy, you know...", Luke replied, and they both laughed. "On all fours, then, I'll take his ass!", the teenager said. Jay wanted to resist this humiliation, but Luke gave him a slapping on his ass and he said: "You will certainly do this for Chris, right? Otherwise, he will have to stay with this teen monster! Chris, show some gratitude by licking Jay's balls while he pays off your dues!" With that, Jay shifted to all fours. Luke moved in front of him, took his cock and shoved it into his mouth. The teenager came from the back and without much care broke into his ass. Chris was on his back, licking the balls of Jay, trying to get into sync with the two masters. Jay was working hard to please them, and they soon got a great rhythm. The teenager was first to come. He shot a huge load into Jay and collapsed on him. A second later, Luke had his juice in Jay's mouth and over his face. He was cum-covered now. Jay collapsed to the ground with Chris under him. "Lick it clean", the teenager commanded when they had picked themselves up again, and since they did not know who was meant, both, Jay and Chris, approached his length and wanted to lick him. "See, how well-behaved they both are!", said the teenager, and Luke laughed. "I want you both!" They started licking the cock clean, and once they were done, Luke had his cock cleaned as well. Luke looked at the stars. What a night in the dunes! The teenager disappeared, not without giving his mobile number to Luke. When they were finished, Jay said: "I have not come yet!" "Oh, bad luck", Luke said, "look, Hakim is approaching to lead us back to the villa". And indeed, in the distance, they saw the handsome servant of Master Amir approaching. "I think you better hurry up. I count down from ten to one, and if you don't manage to come within this time, you'll be chastised for two days", said Luke. Without waiting for a reply, he started counting. Chris wondered how quickly Luke had established that Jay coming was at the mercy of Luke's! But Jay had no space for such thoughts now, he urgently wanted to come. The events of the night had fired him up. Luke pressuring him with the time-constraint made it more difficult. "...4...". Jay sensed how his juice built up. At "2" he came with several strong spurts. "Wonderful", Hakim commented in his kindness. He had just arrived in time to see Jay coming. "It is a pity that Master Amir cannot watch this on video, he would certainly approve of you." Luke nodded. "I take you back to the villa now, I hope you had a good experience. I prepared a night meal that you will enjoy! One more thing, though...", he said with a little unease in his friendly voice. "What is it?", said Luke. "I have instructions that slaves walk naked from the dunes back to the villa, and on a leash. I am sorry, but these are my orders by Master Amir." "Understand", said Luke. "Strip!", he commanded and Chris got out of the red shorts with "SoL" printed on them that he had put on again. Hakim attached a leather leash to the slave collar Chris was wearing. "Does this apply to him, too?", Hakim asked Luke in his kindest voice and nodded into the direction of Jay. Luke chuckled. "No, no..." He took Jay by the hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek. --- Feedback: 74775 (at) tutanota.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/three-guys-in-berlin/three-guys-in-berlin-4

Date: Thu, 25 Jan 2024 00:15:26 +0100 (CET) From: 74775@tutanota.com Subject: Three Guys in Berlin - 4 Three Guys in Berlin - 4 Thank you to Nifty! Please consider donating: https://donate.nifty.org/. Enjoy this piece of fiction. Do not do irresponsible or illegal stuff. Happy to get your ideas and comments. --- Jay felt a surge of anger and disbelief. Chris groaned in a muffled voice, unable to speak with the gag. "Chris, what happened? Is this your new life as Luke's slave?" Jay asked, worried. "Where are the keys?", he asked, but Chris was not able to answer. Jay reached through the bars and undid the blindfold, and he was also able to take off the gag. Chris breathed heavily. "Oh my god", Jay said. He had given that slave collar to Luke that now firmly kept Chris in position. He looked around but did not see any keys. Chris didn't say a word. His eyes were swollen with tears. Jay reached out to him to caress him through the bars. He was still naked and had lost the towel. He heard fingers snipping. When he turned around to look, he saw Luke standing there with a smirk, three keys in his hands. "Want to join him in the cage, Jay?", Luke asked. Jay rose to his feet and confronted Luke at the door. "Give me those keys and shut up! You're a monster, Luke. A selfish, violent, pathetic monster. You're not a friend. You're not Chris's boyfriend. Get out of here. Get out of Chris's life!" Luke slapped Jay hard in the face. Jay, still naked, stumbled and was startled. Next, Luke took Jay's head in his hands, looking into his eyes, now very calm and soft. "Jay, why are you so rude? You have not even asked Chris what he thinks, have you?" "No, but I have eyes to see and a heart to feel", Jay shouted at him. He moved his head away and tried to box Luke into his stomach but Luke was quick enough to sidestep the attack. The two men started a fight: Luke tried to bring Jay under his control, grabbing his arm. Jay, still naked, kicked Luke. They hit each other hard and after several hits they were both on the floor, wrestling, fighting and rolling over one another. All the time, they were watched by Chris, still in the cage, speechless. After some more intense battling of the two hunks, it seemed that Luke was about to gain the upper hand. This was no longer a decent fight but an outburst of alpha aggression. "Stopppppp!" Chris suddenly cried. His yelling interrupted the two fighters and they were frozen. "Stop!", Chris cried again. It was as if they lost all their aggression in a moment. Chris didn't say a further word. Luke and Jay were lying on the floor. They had severe bruises. After a couple of moments, Luke grabbed Jay's cock. Jay was exhausted, but he was hard after a few strokes by Luke. He was too weak to push Luke away. And didn't take long before things felt much easier for Jay, now with his hard cock. To an outsider observer who had just entered, the two men on the floor would have looked like a couple of lovers after fucking. "You still want me to get out of here?", Luke said to Jay, still stroking his dick. Jay did not answer. He tasted blood in his mouth. Luke threw the keys to Chris in the cage. "Get out, slave, take a shower and cook us some good stuff. We may need to discuss some things. You are of course free to leave this place if you no longer wish to obey...". Luke smiled. Chris took the keys and freed himself. "Thank you, Master", he dutifully said and crawled out of his cage. He looked at Jay. Jay looked at him. They both were not able to interpret what they saw on each other's face. When Chris had left the room Luke gave all attention back to Jay, who was now on his back on the floor, somehow exhausted emotionally and physically. Luke continued to slowly work his cock. "It's great how you reacted, Jay, honestly, everyone can be proud to have you as a friend," Luke said. "Maybe there is more to learn about your friend than you have known so far, and more to learn about the human race than you ever thought you could now about men. I would really love to get to know you much better, Jay." With that, Luke rammed his index finger into Jay's hole. Jay screamed briefly, but he didn't start fighting again. The night before had taken its toll, and Luke's words, and his hard cock, and the finger in his ass, and Chris' getting out of the cage -- all that was going around in his head. "Maybe, we should do a little experiment", Luke said. "But let's discuss that over breakfast, I think our slave will be ready soon." He kept working on Jay's hole for a bit, but Luke made sure not to make Jay come. After a while he rose, lept to his feet, and went to a cupboard. He took some clothes and threw them on Jay. "Here, your stuff is still at the hotel. Put this on. Come for breakfast!" Jay ached briefly, took the clothes and put them on. He did not realise that this was an outfit from Chris' slave uniform. He wore a baby-blue Adidas tracksuit with the words "SLAVE of LUKE" written on his back. No underwear. It felt comfy. Chris had prepared breakfast for the two alphas. "Suits you well", Luke said, when Jay entered the room in that slave uniform. Chris gasped. Jay didn't say a word over breakfast. Luke acted like the complete natural he was. Chris was silently performing his duties of serving them. "Chris, sit down with us, I think we need to do some talking", Luke said. "I'm sorry about what you saw, Jay. I didn't mean to offend you." "You didn't offend me, but Chris!", Jay said, indignantly. "Sure, Jay, but isn't that for Chris to say? Or do you think he is not in the position to speak up for himself?" "He certainly was not when he was gagged and caged last night." "But he can now. Slave, tell your friend Jay about your feelings. I want you to be honest, slave!" Luke looked sternly into Chris' beautiful eyes that were a bit watered. "Tell me, slave, what was the first item I used on you to lock you?" "It was the slave collar, Master." "And who gave that one to us, slave?" "Jay did, Master." Jay gulped. "Did you find that indecent or inappropriate?" "No, Master, I felt that to be a really good present." Chris looked down, blushing. "And do you still remember what you told me when I asked you whether you really want to be collared like a slave?" "I said that this had been a secret wish, Master, and that I was proud to see that my best friend Jay knew me so well, although I had never revealed my true nature to him, Master." "So you were grateful to Jay?" "Yes, Master." "Now, about last night. How did it feel to be caged, collared, locked and tied with a gag and a blindfold?" "I felt owned, Master." "Who owns you?" "You do, Master." "And you like it to be owned?" "I think it is right, Master." Chris now spoke very quietly. Jay could barely understand him. "That is no answer to my question. You like it to be owned?" "I think it does not matter, Master, whether I like it or not. It is not for a slave to put his feelings first." While Chris answered, still very quietly, Luke casually stroke his long cock. Jay could hardly believe what he heard. What had happened to self-confident Chris, his best friend for ages? At the same time, he felt that his cock was springing to attention in his Adidas pants. "I want you to answer my question, slave", Luke said, now in a dominant voice. "You like it to be owned?" Chris blushed. "Yes, Master." He looked down and was very quiet now. "Speak up, slave!", Luke said, with an aggressive tone in his voice. "Yes MASTER! I like to be owned! I am your slave and I want to obey your every command! I am a useless slave, only born to serve my MASTER!" Chris broke into tears. This was too much for him, everything. Jay was completely torn. On the one hand, he saw his best friend crying, confessing, and he, Jay, had got that whole pervert path started with the slave collar! On the other hand, he found it incredible exciting to see how Luke had made Chris his slave. Luke was such a seductive man... "It's okay, Chris," Luke said. "I appreciate your feelings. Chris, you are a star, you know that. It is not many people who muster the courage to see their true nature. You did! I am so proud of you! You live up to what has been inside of you forever. You found your owner and you submitted to him. There are many people on this earth who never make it to this stage of finding their true self." When speaking the final sentence Luke had stared at Jay. Jay had his hands in his pants. Chris, still in tears, smiled and nodded. Luke flashed him a most charming smile and touched him. After a short moment of silence, Luke said to Jay: "Before you start getting off, Jayboy, I think you owe us an apology!" "Why that?" "Well, you tried to beat me up for fulfilling your best friend's wishes. But what is more, you have presumed to know better than your best friend what is good for him. You have belittled him, as if he could not speak for himself. I think you owe him." Jay was puzzled. "I... I didn't mean to, Chris, I'm so sorry, I thought you may need help, and... I really don't know what to say... I wanted to protect you, I never meant to belittle you, you know that. I care for you so much! You are so important to me. I never expected you to be in such a position, but I understand that this is what you really want... Chris, you are my best friend, and you will always be!" Luke and Chris looked at Jay, and felt a warm glow of friendship. They realized how lucky they were to have such a caring and supportive friend. Chris kissed him. "Thank you, Jay, I love you too. Don't apologize to me, I know you mean it exactly as you said. I am so grateful to you." "Thanks, Jay," Luke said. "You're the best friend Chris could ever ask for. The slave collar really got this going. It is so beautiful that you cleared the way for Chris to go into slavery." He patted Jay's head. Jay felt uneasy. "You still owe me, though", Luke said. It took Jay a moment to think things through. Then he said: "I am sorry, Luke. I see that you are good for Chris. You are the master he had longed for. It is somewhat difficult for me to see how this works, but I guess it does. Anyway, I should never have hurt you, and I'm sorry." "Well spoken, Jayboy. And how do you want to make up for this?" Luke ran a finger tenderly over some bruises he had received. "Well, what do you suggest? I crawl to you on all fours and kiss your feet and say I'm sorry?", Jay said with an ironic tone. "I think it is not your turn to be cocky again", Luke said firmly. "It would make for a good start, though", he said smilingly. "But why don't you do me another favour? When we go out tonight, you wear that nice blue tracksuit you are currently wearing. I like seeing it on you. Turn around, let me inspect." Jay turned around and Chris and Luke looked at the slave uniform with the big letters "SLAVE of LUKE" written on the backside of the Adidas jacket. "What do you think, slave, you like seeing your best friend in this?" Luke looked sternly at Chris from the side. Chris knew exactly what he had to say. "It's awesome, Master." "Even better from the backside. Rounds off your personality, Jay." "Okay, agreed", said Jay. They spend day and night together, partying in Berlin. Jay wore that blue Adidas tracksuit with the letters. It remained unclear whether -- by now -- he had seen the words or not. He never commented on it. Chris never mentioned it. Jay got a few giggles, dirty looks, and cat-calls. But they had a fun night. None of the three boys was in the mood of destroying their newly founded friendship. Over night, Chris was allowed to sleep in bed with them. He performed the morning routine, and he also serviced Jay with his tongue. "Guys, I have an idea," Luke said. --- Comments welcome! 74775 (at) tutanota.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/three-guys-in-berlin/three-guys-in-berlin-7

Date: Sun, 11 Feb 2024 19:13:24 +0100 (CET) From: 74775 (at) tutanota.com Subject: Three Guys in Berlin - 7 Three Guys in Berlin -- 7 Thank you to Nifty! Please consider donating: https://donate.nifty.org/. Enjoy this piece of fiction. Do not do irresponsible or illegal stuff. Happy to get your ideas and comments at 74775 (at) tutanota.com. --- The coming days passed with pleasure and joy and sex and cum for all of them. Luke, Jay and Chris had the time of their lives. Even Luke downplayed Chris' status as his slave. The night before their planned flight back to Berlin, Master Amir had finally announced his presence, and he had invited them to a dinner party. Their host Hamit had asked them to wear a certain outfit that Master Amir would like. With all kindness he had also ordered them not to have sex all day -- "to save the best for last". The air was thick with anticipation on the day. Master Luke, his slave Chris, and their friend Jay were the only guests of Master Amir and Hamit. The outfit Hamit had handed to them for the night was labelled "SoA" at different parts. When Jay said that he was not a slave of Amir Luke had smiled and said: "Wear it with pride. We should be grateful for what Master Amir offered to us, and it will not be to your disadvantage if we show some respect tonight." He sparkled with his eyes. Jay nodded. The three guests were expected to don tailored black nylon pants that hug their curves and emphasize their masculinity, accentuated by the red print of "SoA" on ass and crotch. A black leather harness adorned their chests, accentuating their bodies and drawing attention to their nipples. Gold chains dangled from the harness, swaying enticingly with each movement. Leather wristbands completed the ensemble. The shoes Master Amir had selected for them were black, high-heeled boots that laced up their calves, giving them a sexy swagger as they walked. They looked incredibly gorgeous and sexy when showing up. When Master Amir arrived, he instantly exuded an incredible air of self-confidence, wealth, beauty and power. His eyes were the first thing they all noticed: They were dark, mysterious, magic. The three men from Berlin felt pierced when he looked at them. Master Amir was perfectly groomed, his black hair was styled, and he had a perfect stubble in his face. He had an olive complexion. He wore a simple white silk kaftan which had his family coat of arms on it. It was hard to tell what he wore under that kaftan, or if at all he wore anything, but they were certain to see his muscular frame. He wore a black bisht, the traditional coat which was embroidered with gold and silver and looked very valuable. Jewellery and expensive rings adorned his body. His shoes were stunning, too: he wore Air Force 1 from the Louis Vuitton x Nike cooperation in gold. Those alone must cost a fortune, Jay figured. Everything about Master Amir just looked perfect. The three Berlin boys all felt a bit ruggish despite of their well-chosen looks, and they even had a certain inferiority feeling in his presence, even Master Luke. But Master Amir also had a way to make them feel comfortable. He invited them to the table, and a discreet servant moved between the tables, pouring glasses of a vintage wine that seemed to glow like liquid gold. They recognised the boy as the teenager from the dunes! He was a household servant of Master Amir! As the evening progressed, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching upon topics as diverse as the art of collecting rare antiquities and the intricacies of BDSM etiquette. Chris found himself drawn into the discussion, his master's arm casually draped around his shoulders as they shared intimate stories and laughter. Across the table, Jay listened intently, his curiosity piqued by the unique dynamic between the four men. After dinner, Master Amir rose from his chair, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, and addressed the group. "My friends, you have all been most gracious guests this evening. Now, I would like to ask Slave Chris to perform for us. Present yourself, slaveboy!" Chris felt a thrill of nervous excitement course through him. Hamit guided him to the centre of the room where he was on display. Music started to play, and Chris out of an instinct started to "perform". He danced and showed off his body and took off his shoes and pants with sexy movement. When he only had his chastity belt and the slave collar on, Master Luke handed the keys to Master Amir who gave them to Hamit. The exchange was a sign of trust and respect between the two dominants, and it left Chris feeling both honored and slightly overwhelmed. He bowed his head in gratitude. Jay found himself transfixed by Chris' strip show. The body of his old friend moved with a fluid grace, each movement perfectly in sync with the music. It did not look to Jay as if this was the first time for Chris to perform. He spun and twirled, and Jay couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for the display of skill and athleticism. Chris hardened his cock, but he knew better than to shoot off even though he would have loved to, now that he was free from the cock cage. When he hade made final leaps and moves, all clapped their hands. Master Amir had his face flushed with excitement. "Bravo, Slave! That was truly exquisite. You have done your master and yourself proud tonight." He turned to Luke, who smiled warmly, his eyes shining with pride. Jay found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Chris, who was now standing before them, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion of the dance. "Thank you," he gasped, "that was for you, Master Amir. For all of you." His voice was hoarse from emotion, and Jay felt a strange stirring in his chest. Master Amir smiled indulgently. "Now get on all fours and crawl and start with my feet", he said with a slight sharpness in his voice. "I am yours to command, Master Amir", he said. At this, Master Amir chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound that seemed to vibrate through the room. Chris started to crawl on all fours, full naked, and he started to free the beautiful feet of their generous host and massage and lick them well. Master Amir, Master Luke and Jay kept talking as if Chris was not even there. It was only by the look on the face of Amir that Jay could tell how well Chris worked on the Arab feet. Master Amir mentioned that they needed to get to business, but Jay did not understand. He noticed that Master Luke was not just charming as usual, but even a slight bit servile and eager in the talking. When Master Amir snipped his fingers after a while, Hamit came and took Chris to another place where he fixed him in a perfect fucking position on a bed. Chris was chained and gagged. When Hamit was done, Master Amir moved with the others to the bed. His eyes met with Chris', and for a moment, Jay thought he saw a flash of vulnerability in Chris' gaze. But then Master Amir leaned in, his lips brushing against Chris' ear, and whispered, "You are mine, Chris. Do you understand that?" A shudder ran through Chris' body at the words, and he nodded. Master Amir smiled, his gaze traveling down Chris' body, taking in the long, lean muscles, the broad shoulders, the narrow hips, and the perfect ass that was presented to him. He reached down and grabbed Chris' cock, which was already hard and leaking pre-cum, and began to stroke it in time with his own heartbeat. As he continued to tease Chris, his fingers found their way to the entrance of his ass, spreading the tight ring of muscle apart. He paused, savoring the moment, before slowly, carefully, guiding the head of his cock toward Chris' entrance. There was a moment of resistance, but then Chris let out a gasp, his body tensing in anticipation as Master Amir pressed deeper. Slowly, inexorably, he pushed further inside, feeling the hot, tight flesh grip his cock like a vice. Chris arched his back, his muscles straining against Master Amir's weight as he fought to take in every inch of his xl cock. Master Amir smiled down at him, his eyes dark with the desire to dominate. He began to move, withdrawing almost all the way before thrusting back in with force, burying himself to the hilt once more. The sensation was exquisite, the feeling of being claimed so completely overwhelming for Chris. As Master Amir fucked Chris, Luke and Jay had their cocks in their hands and were wanking. Hamit came and told Luke to crawl under Master Amir and lick his balls. Luke did, even though it was hard to get to the balls and to get in tune with the rhythm of Amir's brutal fucking. Jay gasped. Master Luke, that dominant monster, was trying so hard to please Master Amir as if he was his slave. Jay stroked his cock real hard, but not for long. Hamit gave him a slap on his cock, pushed him down and started to fuck Jay in the ass. Jay had no idea what happened, all went so quickly, but he soon felt the long cock of Hamit in his tight ass. The sensation of that and of that threesome with Amir, Luke and Chris was intoxicating. The room was filled with the sounds of their passion: Master Amir's grunts of pleasure as he thrust into Chris, Luke's soft moans as he kissed and sucked on Amir's balls, the wet slapping of their bodies together, Hamit's angry fuck sounds of Jay, Jay's moaning, and the muffled screams of Chris who was brutally taken by Amir. Master Amir, his breath ragged and his movements growing more urgent, continued to fuck Chris, his hips slapping against Chris' ass in a rhythmic pattern. He leaned forward, his weight pressing down on Chris' chest, his lips finding Chris' ear once more. "You belong to us, Chris," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "You will always be ours." Master Amir's movements were growing more frantic. The same was true for Hamit now, pounding Jay. Master Luke was still licking hard but also wanking his rock hard cock. The sensation of being so thoroughly taken and pleasured was unlike anything Chris had ever experienced, and as Master Amir finally released his seed into him, filling him up with his warm, salty essence, he felt a wave of pure ecstasy wash over him. He came second after that without even touching his cock. Master Amir groaned, his body shuddering as he came, his hips bucking against Chris' ass one final time before he collapsed forward, pinning Chris to the bed. Luke came as well, and Hamit shot his load into Jay's ass. Jay stroked his cock frantically and shot his load on Chris. "Thank you, Luke," Amir panted, his voice ragged. "You've been very helpful tonight." Luke grinned up at Amir, a pleased expression on his face. "My pleasure, Master Amir. Chris is quite the prize." He stroked a hand down Chris' chest, teasing a nipple. "Yes, I'm sure", Amir said. "But for now, perhaps you should help me clean up." He lifted himself off of Chris, his erection still throbbing. Luke nodded, retrieving a towel from a nearby chair to wipe the sweat and cum from their bodies. Amir shook his head. "With your tongue, Luke!" Luke complied. Chris was still in chains, somewhat dazed from the intense pleasure he'd just experienced. His body ached in places he hadn't even known could ache, but there was a contented weariness to it as well. He watched as his master Luke knelt in front of Master Amir, tenderly cleaning the other man's body. It was a display of loyalty and affection that Chris found both touching, arousing, and disturbing. Hamit had let go of Jay. He was all the smiling kind man again as if he had never been a brutal fucker. "Hamit," Master Amir said, his voice steadying. "We should get to business now. Why don't you take the slave to his chamber?" Hamit bowed his head slightly, unchained Chris and led him to the slave chamber. "Come with me", he said to Jay. Jay followed, and when they were out of sight, the two men kissed each other without saying a word. "I think you have the keys for the slave chamber", said Hamit. He motioned for chaining Chris to the wall. Before doing so, he put the slave collar and the chastity belt back on. Jay was unsure. They had had so much fun, now it was returning to some sado-style locks and chains? Was it not all a game for better sex? "Jay", said Hamit with a sharper undertone. Jay decided that this was what was to be done and that Chris actually loved that, too. So he chained him to the wall. Once that was done, Hamit started to make out again with Jay. Chris was heavily aroused by seeing the beautiful Hamit with his old best friend Jay. What a couple, he thought. Jay was growing hard again. "I want you to give him a hard whipping", Hamit whispered seductively into his ear. Jay did not believe what he was hearing. It felt like love, and now Hamit asked him to beat up his best friend with a whip? Hamit took his cock in his hand. "Do it now", he said. There were enough tools in the room to comply, but Jay felt bad about this. He loved Chris. He did not want to hurt him. "What are you, Jay? Are you a man? An Alpha, even? Or are you a pathetic wimp?" He kissed him hard and started to squeeze his nipples. "Do it for me, Jay", Hamit said. Jay was hard now. Hamit took a long lash from the stand, handed it to Jay, and Jay felt his arm move around, swinging the whip and letting it crack on Chris who screamed out loud. It was hard to tell whether he was screaming for pain or for the surprise that all of sudden Jay was giving him a whipping. Jay continued. Hamit pressed his body from behind to Jay's, and Jay felt Hamit's hard cock at his entrance again. He felt supported by Hamit, yes, he wanted to do this, yes, he wanted to do what Hamit said, yes, he wanted this beautiful Arab to him. Hamit whispered softly into his ears, encouraging to whip harder. Chris was now in tears and pain, unable to defend himself since he was chained to the wall. When it was over, Chris broke together, and he did not know whether that was out of pain or because he realised who had inflicted this terrible pain on him. Hamit rewarded Jay by entering his ass again, very softly, and it felt really good for Jay who now got more accustomed to being a bottom. When there was a snip of fingers, Hamit knew they had to return. He had not come again into Jay, but their bond had grown. Chris closed his eyes. The weight of the manacles around his wrists and ankles was familiar, comforting almost. It was a reminder of where he belonged, of who he was. The teenager now led the four men into the sitting room, where a large, ornate wooden table dominated the center of the space. Amir sat at its head, flanked by Luke on one side and Hamit on the other. Jay was standing by. He had no clue what Amir and Luke had done in the meantime. He had expected them "to do business", but that seemed to come only now. A ledger lay open before them, its pages filled with neat, meticulous script. It was a contract that Hamit read out to the parties. Amir and Luke were the parties to the contract. Jay was mentioned as a witness to it. It turned out to be the document that would seal Chris' fate. It was a contract of sale. A slave trade. Master Luke sold all the rights he held over Chris to Master Amir. Ownership of Chris moved from Luke to Amir. Jay did not believe a word of what he heard. Chris was traded like cattle. Luke gave certain guarantees in the contract -- as to Chris' education, health status, fitness and slave training. He also promised to kill off all traces of Chris' existence, inform family and friends, employer etc., so that Amir's ownership was not questioned. Amir retained the right to revoke the contract if Chris should turn out to be unfit, but in that case, Chris would not be returned to Master Luke, but Luke had to bring a replacement. It remained unclear what would happen in such a case. There was only one vague assurance of Master Amir: He would endeavour to treat Chris in a way that no permanent bodily harm was endured just in case that Luke was asked for a justification. And then there was a payment, of course. An enormous sum, partly in cash, partly in crypto after six months. The contract ended with a clause stating that both parties were aware that this contract was not enforceable in ordinary courts, but that they were also aware that both parties had the right to seek alternative enforcement action -- "whatever it takes". Luke leaned in, his eyes fixed on the page as Hamit ran his fingers down the lines of text. "It's all in order," Hamit said with a bow of his head. "Everything has been accounted for." Amir nodded in agreement, his expression solemn. "Yes, I've gone over the contract myself as well. It's a fair agreement. We have been more generous than last time." Master Amir signed the contract. So did Luke and Hamit. "Thank you, Luke," Master Amir said, his voice soft and appreciative. "Your efforts in finding Chris, training him, and bringing him to us have not gone unnoticed. He is a fine addition to our household." Hamit nodded in agreement. "Indeed, he is," he murmured. "It's an honor to have him here." He glanced up at Jay with a mysterious look. Luke grinned, his expression turning predatory. "It's a pity that I won't see what you have in store for him, Master Amir." "You have to sign now, Jay, as a witness to the contract", Hamit now said with a matter-of-fact voice in Jay's direction, holding out the pen. Jay shivered. "I am not going to sign this", he said, taking all the courage he still had in his body. "Chris is my friend. I have done terrible things to him, but I will not do this", he said. "I am not going to sell him like cattle." Amir laughed out loud. "We are not going to slaughter him, and while we may milk him, we are probably not going to sell his milk!", he laughed. Jay did not move, and Luke sensed anger swelling up in the Arab man. He knew that the deal was close to break down with Jay's dodgy attitude. He wondered whether he should have been more explicit before, showing Jay what was in it for him. But it was too late now to be subtle. Luke rose to his feet, ready to beat the shit out of Jay. Jay trembled. He felt he was trapped. But then, Hamit jumped up. "All good, Master Luke, there is no imminent need to force Jay to sign this contract. It would not be binding in such an instance anyway", he said in his kind and persuasive tone. Luke had none of this. "Don't ruin our future, Jay!", he exclaimed. Turning to Hamit he said: "No one will know whether he signed willingly or forced!" Hamit stood in his way before he could lash out to Jay. His presence made Luke sit down again. Hamit turned to Jay, taking Jay's cock in his hand again, whispering softly in Jay's ears. "Are you a pathetic wimp again, Alpha-Jay?" He moved his fingers to Jay's ass-crack. "Here are the people you love, you even admire. Look at Amir. One of the most powerful men around. Rich, beautiful, successful, intelligent. You were in admiration and awe of him when you first breathed the air he breathes. Look at me, Hamit. You love me, don't you? At least, you love my cock. And I love you, Jay, honestly, I am not faking that, I can't. I am not allowed to fuck around with guests, but I could not hold myself back. From the first minute I saw you I felt that you are special, and that I needed to make love with you. I trusted you because I know I can. And look at Luke. Have you not noticed that he is your best friend? He loves you. He showed things to you that you never even thought were existing. He trusted you 1000 per cent. He wants to impress you, that is why you are here. You were made for each other. You will leave this island tomorrow as a rich man. And I do not just mean financially rich. I mean the richness of experience and of love. Maybe we do not see each other again, but you will always be a very sweet memory to me, and maybe I will be for you. But you earn something much larger than this. The friendship, the partnership and the love of Luke. Look at the three of us. Trust us." Hamit had two fingers in Jay's ass now and Jay was rock hard. He moved to the table, softly pushed by Hamit, but also out of his own will. He signed the contract. Luke patted his head and gave him a kiss. Master Amir cleared his throat. "Then let us conclude this business, shall we?" he said, his voice rich with authority. He gestured to the slave chamber. Hamit went off to get the slave. Jay was holding hands with Luke. Chris was a picture of misery. The wounds of the whipping showing, his will broken, his eyes empty. Master Amir was inviting him to kneel before the ledger. As Chris knelt, his knees pressed into the plush carpet. He bowed his head in submission. Amir felt a surge of possessiveness course through him as he watched his newest submissive present himself so willingly. Luke and Hamit had done a good job. "Slave Chris, as you kneel before this ledger, do you agree to offer yourself to me, and to this household, as a slave?" Chris' heart raced as he swallowed hard. He looked up at Master Luke, questioningly, but Luke only nodded reassuringly. "Yes, Master," he whispered. "I agree." Hamit guided Chris hand to sign the contract. Chris did it without reading a word. "You're doing very well, Chris," Amir murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You're a natural. Take it like the good slave you are." Hamit rang a bell, next. A minute later, the teenager showed up. He had a red-hot forging iron in his hands, and they could read the mark engraved on the iron in mirror image, burning hot: "SoA". The teenager brutally pressed it on Chris' ass, branding him like cattle. Chris screamed like a pig. He arched his back, gasping for air. Tears welled in his eyes, but he refused to cry out. He was a slave now, and he would endure whatever his masters saw fit to give him. He fainted. Amir watched with a mixture of arousal and amusement. "The tattoos will be applied later. I think he needs a break", Hamit said. "Get him out of sight now", Amir ordered. "Drinks and music! We need to celebrate!" The next morning, Jay did not remember too much of how the night had ended. He was sitting in a car to the airport with Luke. Hamit was driving. They had left Chris behind to whatever fate awaited him. Jay was filled with remorse. But Luke took him into his arms and caressed him. "This went so well", he said. He was really happy. "I never expected Chris to be such easy prey. And Amir was really generous. He has a soft spot for such German guys like Chris." He stroked a strand of hair from Jay's face. "Jay, this really paid off for me, and of course for you. You will quit your job and move to Berlin. We will live in Chris' apartment, well, mine anyways, and we will have a real ride, Jay!" He was overflowing with joy. Hamit looked into the rear mirror, making eye contact with Jay. He was smiling broadly, and Jay couldn't help but smile back. "We still have twenty minutes to the airport. Enough time to suck me off", said Luke and pushed Jay's head to his crotch. "And make sure to catch every drop, Jay-slave, Master Amir would not approve of my juice on his leather seats." End. --- Feedback: 74775 (at) tutanota.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/three-guys-in-berlin/three-guys-in-berlin-3

Date: Wed, 17 Jan 2024 13:21:57 +0100 (CET) From: 74775@tutanota.com Subject: Three Guys in Berlin - 3 Three Guys in Berlin -- 3 Thank you to Nifty! Please consider donating: https://donate.nifty.org/. Enjoy this piece of fiction. Do not do irresponsible or illegal stuff. Happy to get your ideas and comments. --- Jay had arrived later than expected in Berlin. He had taken the train, it was two hours late. He quickly moved to his hotel at Hackescher Markt, changed into some Friday night party gear and was ready. He had texted with Luke and Chris, and they decided to meet at the bar where they had met right before Christmas. Jay was excited. He would love to see the barkeeper boy again, but most of all he wanted to learn more about the relationship of Luke and Chris. This time, the bar was crowded and noisy. He saw Luke and Chris at a corner table, where they had ordered drinks. Jay scanned the room, looking for the barkeeper boy. He spotted him behind the counter, mixing cocktails and chatting with customers. He was so young and handsome, with his blond hair and blue eyes. Jay smiled. He wore a white adidas tracksuit jacket, no shirt, and a silver necklace. Jay felt a surge of attraction and curiosity. He wondered if the boy remembered him. When he joined Luke and Chris it was all big hugs. Chris seemed to be so happy to see Jay again, and Luke flashed him his perfect smile. "So, you are still wearing it" Jay asked, letting his fingers run around the slave collar he had given to Luke for Chris. Chris blushed. "Sure, he does", Luke said. "How do you like his outfit? It's one of his slave outfits. I thought this one was good for tonight." He grinned. Jay and Chris exchanged a glance. Jay scanned his best friend's new look: It was sexy, but it was... different. Chris wore a mesh black shirt, the slave collar, matching leather cuffs at his wrists. The shirt was stuffed into shiny black nylon shorts. No underwear, it seemed, but his chastity belt was showing. White sox and sneakers. "Turn around!", Luke said. On the back of the shirt it read: `Owned and operated by Luke' in big letters. Jay gasped. His best friend had to wear slave outfits at the command of Luke? He really looked like a submissive slut to everyone now. What a difference to the Chris he had known for years! But Chris seemed to like it. Jay had the impression that he wore it with pride. "You like it, Jay, don't you?" Jay did not know what to say. This was his best friend Chris, demoted in public to Luke's official slave? He sensed his cock. He looked at Chris. He looked stunning, no doubt, but still... Jay looked at Luke. "You like it, Jay?" "It's unique", Jay said. He was unsure of what to say. He saw that Luke and Chris were not yet satisfied with his words. "To be frank: I think it's... hot! Congratulations, Chris! I've known you for so many years, and you still surprise me!" He kissed him on his cheek. "True words", Luke said. "Let's drink!" They started with Gin & Tonic, and conversation turned to normal stuff, Chris' new job, Jay's adventures. It was hard to understand a word anyway, but after the first drinks, Jay felt very comfortable. He had the impression that Chris was happy to see him, that he was even proud to show off how his relationship with Luke had developed. "Hey, guys, I'll be right back," Jay said, getting up from his seat. "Okay, sure. Don't be long," Luke said. Jay nodded and walked away. He headed to the restroom, but he also wanted to pass by the bar. He wanted to get a closer look at the boy again, and maybe even talk to him. The boy glanced at him. Jay saw a flicker of recognition and surprise in his eyes. He saw him smile and nod. "Hey, remember me?" Jay asked. "Of course, I remember you. You're Jay! We shared an exciting show right before Christmas here," the boy said. "How are you, Sir?" Jay smiled. He reached over the counter and kissed the boy's lips. "See you in the restroom in a minute", Jay said. He was sure the sub boy would not let him wait for too long, and he was right. A moment later, the boy showed up. He looked gorgeous in his adidas outfit. They stood in the dark hallway near the restrooms. No one took particular notice when they made out. The boy had a hard-on in a second, and so did Jay. "Take it in", he said and pushed the boy on his knees. The music was hammering from the bar and the boy soon caught the rhythm of it and Jay pumped him real good. He felt like the Alpha who deserved it. The boy was a pro in serving his cock. He grabbed his head firmly with both hands and closed his eyes. He felt it would not take too long before shooting his load but suddenly ---- the boy stopped. His mouth left the rock hard tool and he pulled his head away. Jay opened his eyes and looked into the icy blue eyes of Luke. Luke had taken the boy away from him and sent him back to the bar. Luke was now standing in front of Jay and pushed him against the wall. "What do you think you're doing here?", he asked. Jay laughed. "Have fun, that's what we are here for, right?" "Did you have permission to take the boy?" "Do I need permission, Luke?", he said, still in a joking mood. His boner had gone, but he had a party feeling. Luke smiled. "Actually, yes. You do. Look, Jayboy, you are my slave's best friend, and you are our guest for this weekend. So, I will take advantage of you. And I will not let you throw yourself away to some random guy." Jay felt an unease creeping up his cheeks. But then, Luke took his face into his hands and gave him a long and intense kissing. His boner was back in a second. "You see," Luke said, "it is always good to follow the Master's order". Before Jay was able to answer, he had Luke's tongue back in his mouth. "Let's go back to Chris!" "I'm sorry if I was too forward," Jay said, "but then, you are not my Master, Luke." He grinned. After this comment Luke slapped his ass hard. Jay stumbled a few steps into the bar, and turned to Luke, dumbfounded. Luke just smirked. Back at Chris, the barkeeper boy brought them new drinks, smiling at Jay. They had a really fun night out, changed locations, made out, danced, got drunk and enjoyed being together. By the time they decided to go to sleep, the sun appearing over the city of Berlin again, Jay was too drunk to go to the hotel. "You're sleeping with us," said Luke. Jay didn't notice too much anymore, he agreed. Once they got to the apartment, Luke ordered Chris to spend the night in the cage. Jay should sleep next to Luke in his place. They helped Jay to get out of his clothes, put the handsome naked man to bed, and Jay fell asleep immediately. When Luke joined him some moments later, after locking up his slave in the cage, naked Jay snuggled up to him. Jay woke up late after noon. He still felt a little groggy, but he had slept pretty damn well. He realized that he was naked and that Luke was lying next to him, this blonde, tall god. Luke had his eyes open. He had some sleeping pants on, but was shirtless and had his arms behind his head. Jay smelled the intense scent of the armpits. Luke smiled at him. "Slept well, boy?" "Yeah, man, gosh, what time is it? When did we go to bed? Where is Chris? I have no clue..." "No worries, all fine", Luke said reassuringly and moved closer in to Jay. After some cuddling, Luke said: "Could you actually do me a favour?" He placed his arm around Jay, and Jay felt the athletic body of Luke pressing against him. "Sure, what is it?" "Chris-Slave is, well, not available right now, but we have a certain morning routine, here, and I thought you may jump in for him today?" "Where is Chris?" "He's fine, don't worry, he is still somewhat restricted in his movements, I guess." "Same here", Jay said, and stretched and yawned. It felt good to be so close with Luke and feel his warmth against his naked body. "So, what is your morning routine?" "Go to my feet, caress them well with your tongue and then suck me off." "Haha, that is your morning routine?" "Yes, and Chris is really good at it, so I wonder whether you can match him. You can try, of course." He placed his hand on Jay's shoulders and pressed him down. Jay smiled. "I see you need it really hard!", he laughed. Jay moved to the end of the bed. He was not a toesucker, of course, but he thought he could try this out with Luke. He started to lick feet and toes of Luke. Luke had big feet, they tasted the way feet do after a night out partying. The smell aroused Jay somehow. Luke enjoyed it, and Jay just did it. When he wanted to say something, Luke pressed his foot into his mouth so that Jay was not able to speak. "No talking. Just do your work. You are quite good at it, but you can still improve", Luke said. Jay went on for a while, sucking all toes individually and really carefully. "Enough of that now?", he asked after some time. "Keep going for another minute or so, you have not done the soles too well", Luke replied. He had his cock in his hand. Jay continued to lick the feet. When he moved up to take the cock of Luke in his mouth, Luke said: "Wait, I forgot something. I need to pee. Actually, this is one of your slave-friend's additional duties. He serves as my personal piss-drinker, too." "Uuuh, gosh", Jay said. He had tried piss once, but he was not into watersports at all. Once in a while, he emptied his bladder into a young sub, but more for humiliating them. And he was certainly not a taker. Luke sensed that Jay was not ready for this. "Give me that glass over there", he said. He pissed into the glass. "Maybe for later", he said. "Now go!" Jay gave him a really great morning blowjob. When he had been a teen he and his first boyfriend did a lot of blowjobs for each other. They had an older friend who taught them to do it right, and his lessons had been really successful. After Jay had discovered that he was a top he had not given blowjobs very often, but he still had the skills. "See, what a decent alpha blower you are, Jayboy!", Luke said. He was rock hard. It did not take long. Jay sensed that Luke was close to coming. He wanted to make him shoot that morning load on his chest. But all of sudden, quicker than expected, Luke shot his load. It was massive! It hit Jay unprepared. Some of the juice landed in Jay's mouth, some in his face, some in the bedsheets. It was a juicy mess all over the place. Luke laughed out loud. "Yesssss! What a great cocksucker you are! Proud of you, Jayboy, yessss!!!" "Are you mad? I've got your jizz in my mouth and my face, you bastard!" "Swallow it, it tastes good!", Luke said. Jay had actually already swallowed quite a bit, but enough was enough, he thought. He got up and went to the bathroom. He took a quick shower. On his way back, his hair still wet, his bare skin still shiny, only a towel wrapped around, he saw that the door to Chris' study was open. He peered inside. He couldn't believe his eyes. There was Chris. In a cage. His slave collar had a chain attached to the bars. The cage was locked. Chris was blindfolded and had a gag in his mouth. "Chris ---", Jay stammered.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/daves-boi-donovan/

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https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/three-guys-in-berlin/three-guys-in-berlin-1

Date: Wed, 10 Jan 2024 19:24:14 +0100 (CET) From: 74775@tutanota.com Subject: Three Guys in Berlin - 1 Three Guys in Berlin - 1 Thank you to Nifty! Please consider donating. Enjoy this piece of fiction. Do not do irresponsible or illegal stuff. Happy to get your ideas and comments. It was a cold December night in Berlin. The city was lit up with festive lights and decorations. The streets were crowded with people shopping, eating, and enjoying the holiday spirit. Luke and Chris were walking hand in hand along the sidewalk. They had met a few weeks ago on the subway, when Chris with brown hair, spectacles and his signature green bomber jacket had noticed the tall blond hunk. Luke had been reading a book that Chris liked. He had struck up a conversation with him, and they had hit it off. Luke was awesome with his perfect features, his casual look, wearing a blue hoodie under his jacket and grey jogging pants. They exchanged phone numbers, and soon they were texting and calling each other every day. They had gone on several dates, and their relationship had developed considerably. Luke was a god in Chris' eyes, and for some reason. He adored Luke. Chris had a crush on men who exuded this self-confident, maybe even arrogant demeanour, and Chris was definitely ace in this. Luke also seemed to like Chris. He did not show it so much. Tonight, just before Christmas, they had decided to make it official. They were a couple. They stopped at a corner right around Chris' flat, and Chris leaned in to kiss Luke. He wrapped his arms around him, and felt his warm breath on his lips. He kissed him passionately, not caring about the people passing by. He felt a surge of happiness and excitement. He had finally found the one he had been looking for. Even Luke's kissing had this little aggressive touch, wow. A few meters away, another young man was watching them with a mix of joy, envy and sadness. This was Jasper, but he preferred to be called Jay. He had short dark hair, striking features, a slim built. Jay wore a dark blue turtleneck and a scarf. He was a friend of Chris, and he had come to Berlin to visit him for Christmas. He had known him for a while, and he had always had a little crush on Chris. Actually, he had hoped that maybe this trip would be his chance to confess his feelings, but now he saw that he was too late. The blond man had already stolen the heart of Chris. But maybe, Jay thought, better so, they were so close friends -- it would have been a disaster if their friendship was ruined by his emotions. Jay knew he should be happy for his friend, but, hey, he couldn't help feeling a bit envious. But this changed when he took a closer look at the man who was so passionately kissing with Chris. Jay felt a hard-on in his pants. Chris had told him that there was Luke, but Jay had never imagined that it was such a blond hero. He sensed the attraction to the blond man. But he decided to let his friend have him. It was Christmas, one should be generous. Jay sighed, and put his hands in his pockets, watching the lovers and their excitement on the streets of Berlin. After a while he decided to turn away, actually, he wanted to get off as quickly as possibly, and he did not want to stop that brilliant show, nor did he want to wank in public. So he started to walk back to his hotel. He would probably find a cute young guy to spend that cold December night with. He was about to leave, when he heard someone calling him. He turned around, and saw the blond man running towards him. He stopped in front of him, and smiled. "Hey, wait a minute. Where are you going?" he asked. "I'm going back to my hotel. I, I... have an early train tomorrow," he said. "You are Jasper. Don't leave. We could be having fun, right?" Luke said. Jay looked at him, and felt a pang of longing. He was so handsome, and had this little roguish edge. He wished he could stay with him, but he knew that this may cause some trouble with Chris. Obviously, this was his best friend's new boyfriend, after all. "Great to meet you, you must be Luke. I mean, sure, we could have fun, but I really do not want to interfere, I mean, you and Chris, this is your Christmas, I think, maybe I should just... Look, Chris is waiting for you," Jay said. Luke smiled, and looked over his shoulder. He saw his boyfriend still standing at the corner, looking a bit like a slut. Chris was looking at Luke and Jay with a curious expression. Jay now wondered why Chris had not come over to him, but Luke. Luke moved in closer to Jay, took his hand, squeezed it gently and then moved his hand to Jay's pants, feeling the boner building up. "Listen, I want to tell you something. I really like you. You are hot. And I think you like me too. Am I right?" he said. Jay felt his face turn red. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He nodded. He couldn't lie to this guy, and hell, yes, he did like him. A lot. He smiled. "Then why don't we give it a try? Why don't we be together?" Luke said. Jay laughed and shook his head. He didn't know what to say. Did the boyfriend of his best friend just offer to betray him in the first minute of their encounter? "But what about Chris? He's your boyfriend. He loves you. I'm his best friend," he said. Luke smirked, and pulled him closer. He whispered in his ear. "He's my boyfriend but he does as he is told. He's good at taking orders when I tell him," he said. Jay looked at him, and saw that arrogant smirk on Luke's face. He couldn't believe it. His friend was following the orders of this blond lad? So, he had been right about his suspicion all the time that Chris was a sub? He looked at Chris. He saw him nodding. He turned back to the blond man, and wrapped his arms around him. He kissed him softly, and felt his lips move in sync with his. He felt a wave of happiness and excitement. They broke the kiss, and Luke grabbed the boner that Jay now clearly had. They looked at each other, and smiled. "I like it when two alpha boys meet," said Luke. "But what about him?," Jay asked. They laughed, and kissed again. They walked back to the corner, and joined Chris. Jay hugged his old friend. "Don't touch yourself," the blond one commanded. "Let's go," he said. The three walked, and Jay and Chris were so stunned that they barely said a word to each other. After a while, they entered a small hidden bar. It was only the barkeeper inside, a cute young student who seemed to be friends with the blond. He kissed him. "Fix us some drinks and lock the door," the blond said. The barkeeper complied. When he came from behind the bar, they saw that he only wore shiny Adidas shorts and a harness. "Strip," the blond man now said in a calm, but determined voice to Chris. His boyfriend obeyed instantly. He stripped. He was naked a moment later. He went on his knees. He kissed the shoes of Luke. After that, he opened Luke's pants and kissed the long, big cock. Luke signalled to Jay to come over. Jay came and they started to kiss again, while Chris gave Luke a blowjob. "Hang on a moment," Jay said, "I actually brought a present for Chris, but maybe I better give it to you, Luke." He went to his backpack and took a dog collar from it. It had the word "SLAVE" on it. He gave it to Luke. "It's my Christmas present." Luke was fascinated. "Wow," he said "what a fit! You knew he is a submissive slut?" He took the collar and put it around his boyfriend's neck. "Well, I thought Chris may like this, I mean I have known him for years, but I took a guess." "Well spotted!" "You can lock it with this key," Jay said. He showed the key to Luke. Chris didn't say a word the whole time, he was just busy giving cock, but Jay saw that he had a rock hard boner. "Lock it," Luke said to Jay. Jay did. His eyes met with Chris', and while both were a bit embarrassed, they both had a feeling that this was exactly what Chris really wanted. Jay gave the key to the blond man. He let it slip into one of the pockets of his jacket. "Well done, Chris! Now relax and watch." Jay took his drink and sat down. The young and cute barkeeper came to him, and put his head in his lap. They both enjoyed the show that Luke now put on with his boyfriend. The longer the two were in action, Jay realised that Chris really was something like a sex slave. Jay was hard now. The barkeeper started to blow him. It did not take long for Luke to explode into the mouth and face of his boyfriend. The two spectators shot their loads, too. "Thank you, Sir," Chris said to his boyfriend. Luke ignored him. He looked over to the others with a cocky grin. "Merry Christmas," he said. "Is he not allowed to come?," the cute barkeeper boy asked. Some cum drippled on his chin. The blond shook his head. "Will probably lock him up down there, too. Makes him even more obedient." The barkeeper chuckled. "Now, you may stand up and dress again, slave" Luke said.like "Thank you, Sir!" They all noticed how horny Chris still was. They downed another drink. Then the three visitors left the bar. "You have to catch an early train, right?" Luke laughed and he kissed Jay. Jay took the hand of Chris who still had the dog collar around his neck. What a Christmas night, they all thought. A week later, Jay had returned to his home town and had gone on skiing holidays. Thinking back to the events over Christmas, he felt uncomfortable. What had he done to his friend? When he thought of the night at the bar and what happened in the days after that, his cock got hard. He licked his lips. Still, he felt bad. He decided to write a message to Chris. "Bro, how are you? It was great to see you over Christmas! But I feel a bit uncomfortable. Hope I did not go too far. Are you okay?" He nervously waited for a reply. But it was not until the next day that he got it. His heart beat fast as he opened the message. "Hey, thanks for asking, but don't worry! I am very OK. Thank you for helping me discover my true self. And thank you for the SLAVE collar. I think it fits perfectly. Do you like my blond Master?" Jay was relieved. But he also felt his cock throbbing. Now his friend had called himself a slave, wow! And yes, he thought, he likes that blond guy! He typed a message: "Good to hear, Bro, eh, SLAVE, haha! Yeah, I like Luke. He is so fucking hot!!!" The answer came straight away: "Thank you for calling me SLAVE, I think that is good. You can call my Master "Master". That is well-deserved!" Jay was now rock hard and felt precum in his pants. He thought for a moment, then he replied: "Haha, SLAVE, he is not my master, though..." The answer was just a smiley, the one with the sunglasses. The man felt he needed to reply, otherwise his erection may pass... so he typed: "But I think you are right. It is appropriate to call him Master anyway. He has a very alpha attitude!" Jay was sitting on the terrace of a luxury hotel near the skiing slopes, taking a break from skiing. But he started thinking how he could get off quickly. "You should come see us in Berlin again, soon!" To this message, the slave had attached a photo of the Master with his gorgeous look. Oh my god, Jay thought. He went to the bathroom of the hotel, locked himself in a stall and started to wank. He looked at the photo. What an arrogant smile! Yeaaaah, he wanted to be with that blond god! It did not take long before he shot a huge load onto the floor. What he did not know at this point: He had not been texting with Chris. Actually, the messages had been written by Luke. Chris had given him his mobile phone, so as to be better under control. "I need to make sure you can concentrate on serving," Luke had told his slave. The slave had understood this. He wanted his thoughts to concentrate on serving, too. When returning from the bathroom, Jay felt really good. He looked at the photo again. Why did Luke hold three keys? He recognised the key that he had given him for the slave collar. But what about the other two? Had he really put a chastity belt on his friend and locked it? And if so what was the third key? "Thank you for the pic. He is really awesome!!! What are the three keys for? I think I recognise the one for the collar?" The master texted back, still pretending to be the slave: "The other one is for my chastity belt. The third one, you will find out when you come." Jay instantly replied: "I will be with you and the Master as soon as possible." Little did he know that the third key was for a cage. Luke and Chris had decided that it was better to lock Chris up in a cage once in a while, for instance when Luke was going out to see other guys. The slave was still allowed to go out for work or to do the chores, with a strict timetable. But he had agreed that it was much better if Luke controlled how he moved and where and why. It sure was best for MASTER and also for him. Sometimes, the Master brought home boys to kiss or fuck with. If the slave was lucky, he was allowed to watch from the cage. He would have loved to touch his cock in these moments since it was so incredibly hot how Luke and his date boys got off. Yet, it was not allowed, and the chastity belt prevented him from having a hard-on anyway. He was so horny, that he grew more submissive every day while Luke was having fun with the boys of Berlin. Jay had no idea how far this had gone already. So he kept thinking about the third key. And about going to Berlin. "I'm coming," he wrote once he had returned from skiing. Guess so, the master thought.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/titus/titus-1

Date: Fri, 19 Jul 2024 02:20:05 +0000 From: gaydelivery Subject: Titus ch. 1 Titus [Author's note: this is a hardcore scifi sex slavery and body horror story which will include lots of different questionable kinks, including non consensual body modification. In other words, this is not one for the squeamish. But if you're into that sort of thing, I hope you enjoy.] [seriously though, it's fucked up. You've been warned.] It was twenty minutes past midnight after Julian Aurelius' eighteenth birthday, and the party was over. Julian sat against a mountain of pillows on a large bed in the dark. A plastic crown sat askew on his skater boy mop of red hair, his face scrunched up, his crystal blue eyes shut tight, like he was concentrating on something. His body was six feet three inches of lean freckled muscle, shimmering with sweat. Julian's left hand lightly held a half smoked spliff. His right was wrapped tightly around the long blond hair of his personal slave girl, Girl, as Julian fucked her face like a fleshlight. Julian had fucked out Girl's gag reflex long ago, and now she could take Julian's eight inch cock all the way down to Julian's wild bush of fiery red pubes with ease. But even without a gag reflex, Julian's dick, uncut like all free men, was thick enough to choke her. Julian loved nothing so much as holding Girl balls deep on his dick until she started squirming and tried to pull off, begging for air. The door to the master suite crashed open and Julian released Girl's hair as she jumped off Julian's dick with a scream. Cops raided the room, their headlamps flashing around like strobe lights. They immediately honed in on Julian. One of them roughly threw Girl off the bed, the other grabbed Julian by the neck and dragged him towards the door. The lights flicked on. Julian's big brother, Titus, was grinning like a fox in the doorway. He was Julian's Irish twin, only nine months older and a dark mirror to his younger brother. The same lean but fit six three, the same startlingly blue eyes, the same high cheekbones; but Titus' long wavy hair was a brown so dark it was almost black, his skin a golden olive, and while his face was just as handsome as Julian's, Titus' was sharp and intimidating where Julian's was soft and welcoming. Their parents had died when the boys were infants, but from pictures and videos Titus was the spitting image of their Equite father, where Julian had the fair skin and red hair that distinguished their mother's family, the great Patrician clan Furio. "What seems to be the trouble, officers?" Titus asked sarcastically, his eyes seeming to sparkle as he continued to grin openly at Julian, trapped in the officer's grip. The cop holding Julian's neck barked, "We've apprehended this man in possession of illicit substances." Another cop held up the spliff. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Julian shouted with all the petty pride of a lifetime of pure entitlement, "All this for a bit of weed? Do you know who the fuck I am? My fucking piss is worth more than that fine you slaveless fuck--" Titus hit Julian across the face with a savage back handed slap, "Is that how you speak to an officer of the law!?" Titus said it with his Master voice, as if he were scolding a slave. The tone frightened Julian more than the blow. Titus had never spoken to him like that. Titus continued, "I'm sorry officers, that my son is so disrespectful. He's always been a spoiled brat." "Son? Tito--the fuck are you talking about?!" Julian asked, confused, and then he remembered. Legally, Titus was his father. He'd agreed to it nine months ago, it was some loophole Titus figured out so they could both move out of their uncle's house when Titus turned eighteen. But, that was just supposed to be a trick to get Julian out of their uncle's mandatory study sessions and curfews and tiny allowances. The Overseer couldn't seriously think-- Titus cut off his brother's train of thought, "In fact, I think he's a lost cause. Master Overseer!" Julian's stomach crashed into his gut, as behind Titus emerged a State Overseer, anonymous but unmistakable behind his gold mirrored face mask and black, form fitting ceramic armor. "I wish to exercise my rights as Pater Familias. I hereby strip Julian Aurelius of all the rights and liberties of a freeman, and bind him as a slave." "What?! You--you can't do that! Master Overseer, please, there's been a mistake, I'm a freeman! A patrician! I have rights! I demand a trial!" Julian tried to summon the outraged dignity of an entire class, but he instead sounded like a scared, whining boy. The Overseer's response came through a cold, robotic synthesizer, "HAE Penal Code Chapter Six Subsection Fourteen: A Pater Familias may exercise the right of binding without appeal where his child is: 1. No less than eighteen years of age and 2. Found in violation of the law, such violation being attested to by no less than three witnesses to the same criminal act." "Officers, did you witness my son breaking the law?" Titus asked, his cold blue eyes never leaving Julian's. "Yes sir," they barked in chorus. "And as of twenty minutes ago, he is over eighteen. So, Master Overseer, I do believe I'm within my rights," Titus answered cockily, as if this were an old script. Julian's heart felt ready to beat out of his chest. Stiffly, the State Overseer nodded. He turned to the cops and beckoned for them to let Julian go. They tossed him to his knees, and as Julian looked up his own terrified eyes stared back at him in the golden mirror. Julian didn't see the Overseer draw the electro whip before he was blinded by the flash of its light. A burning shock spread from a line of fire on his cheek across his entire body, and he fell to the floor, limp and half paralyzed. "Slave once known as Julian Aurelius," the robotic voice was as calm and detached as ever but echoed in Julian's ears like thunder as he writhed naked on the ground, "Thou will submit to the state mandated slave initiation process. Master Titus Aurelius, dost thou bind this slave temporally or entire?" Even in his pain and fear Julian discovered new depths of terror as he heard his brother's reply, "Entire." "No!" Julian screamed with every fiber of his being, but the cry barely left his lips as a whisper. Then he felt the cold plasteel of the gravbonds wrap around his wrists and neck. With a sudden hum the restraints pulled Julian's arms perpendicular to his shoulders, and then slowly levitated off the ground, raising Julian like he was being lifted on a cross. And it hurt like a cross, the stabbing ache of Julian's body weight hanging on his wrists, the chokehold strangling his neck. It was unbearable until Julian sluggishly found his feet and could support his own weight. The relief was immediate even if his head and hands were uncomfortably held in midair as securely as if they were chained to a wall. But the relief evaporated as Julian found himself looking once more into the golden void of the Overseer's mask. "Thou art a slave entire. Thou art hereby deprived of all properties, rights, liberties, and dignities. Thy humanity is forfeit. Thou art forever chattel, and shall be marked as chattel." From his utility belt the Overseer drew a metal tube that he extended like a kaleidoscope to about a foot long. Julian didn't realize he was pissing himself as he started thrashing against his cuffs like a wild animal at the sight of the Cutter. There was another flash of light and sear of pain from the electro whip and Julian collapsed into his restraints, unable to move except for sporadic, involuntary twitches across his body. Now gravbonds went around his ankles. They rose, pulling Julian's feet in front of him before raising his whole lower body, pulling his feet to the same height as his wrists like a trussed up pig. Then the bonds began pushing apart, stretching Julian out till he lay flat in the air, like on an invisible floating table. The Overseer lowered Julian to waist height, and angled the restraint around Julian's neck to force Julian to look down between his own legs. The noise Julian made when the Overseer's gauntlet grabbed his dripping penis was somewhere between a gurgle and a whimper, but a squeak escaped as the Cutter was placed over his dick. The firm, moist silicon mechanically sucked his long soft dick inside like it was being swallowed by some toothless snake. The Overseer pushed a button and a thin ring of blue light pulsed to life around the cylinder's tip. Suddenly the tube suctioned itself to the base of Julian's dick like a vacuum hose. The light changed to orange, and the silicon tightened. A small motor rumbled and the silicon began to move again, pulling Julian's long foreskin down, exposing his dickhead directly. Then Julian felt something like a condom sliding over his glans, down his shaft and inside his foreskin. The silicon began to grow warm, and then hot, but Julian could feel the cool numbing sensation of the medigel that lined the condom. The light changed to red. There was a click and a flash of heat. Julian let out a choked, anguished cry. Intellectually, Julian knew that the medigel immediately healed the wound down to the nerves, that there was no pain to feel, that he was cut too quick to even bleed. But Julian's dick disagreed, and it ached at the burning memory of the cut's sharp sting. Slowly and inexorably the Overseer pulled off the Cutter, revealing Julian's now tightly circumcised cock, its helmet head flared out like a mushroom, its bare shaft red and raw and glistening, the scar perfectly clean. His soft, exposed dick was so sensitive Julian gasped merely at the sensation of the open air. Julian stared dumbfounded at his dick and began weeping, the pain of his restraints next to nothing compared to the remembered pain of the heat and the sight in front of him, his personhood stripped. "Thank you for your service, Master Overseer. We can take it from here. Pasca--" Titus motioned and the estate's head slave entered the room, a hairless, ageless, and sharp eyed eunuch. He faced Titus expectantly, seemingly oblivious to the condition of his former master. "See that the officers are paid double what we agreed, and send this new slave to processing. Keep him hooded, but no corrections." Pasca nodded. Julian had time to croak out a, "No!" before Pasca slipped a thin black bag over his head. Its rim latched to Julian's neck. The nanorubber shrank and clung as tight as skin, making a living bust of Julian's head, a bust that was screaming silently. Beneath it, Julian experienced for the first time the absolute darkness and crushing quiet of a Slave Hood. Titus bit his lip, triumph in his eyes as he looked on his broken and blind younger brother being dragged away. He nodded respectful goodbyes to the officials, but before they followed Pasca out the door Titus called out, "Master Overseer! I believe you remain in possession of my property." The Overseer stopped stiffly. He returned to Titus, withdrawing the cutter from his belt. "My apologies, Master Aurelius," the Overseer said, his robotic voice inflectionless as he twisted the cutter and Julian's foreskin fell out into his palm. He handed it to Titus. "My thanks, Master Overseer," Titus answered breathily, his long fingers wrapping around the still warm flesh. Titus waited until the Overseer followed the police out of the room before he opened his hand and examined it. The medigel had healed the foreskin as perfectly as Julian's dick, leaving a supple and soft sleeve of reddish pale dick skin. Titus' fingers explored inside and stretched it between them, pushing his index finger through the web of piss and precum that still clogged its snout. Titus stripped off his clothes and laid in Julian's former bed. He put the toy crown that had fallen amidst the pillows squarely on his head, and then lowered the severed foreskin onto his thick eight inch dick, the dark twin to the foreskin's former partner. It stretched around Titus' uncut meat, hugging it tight, opening around Titus' own head and hood like a second eyelid. Titus came in less than a minute, pinching Julian's foreskin over the top of his own dick so it ballooned full of his cum. Titus laughed to himself as he stroked the cum filled foreskin over his sensitive and unflagging erection. There was a noise in the corner, and Titus noticed Girl hiding in the corner, shaking. Titus laughed again. He peeled off Julian's foreskin like a used condom and tossed it at Girl. "Go on, suck that dick sleeve clean. It's still got your spit on it." [end note: if any of you fellow perverts enjoyed this shit be sure to let me know. I've got another chapter about ready to go and can imagine a dozen more, but if I'm just writing for myself I'll probably keep the rest in my brain lol]

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/two-homophobic-guys

Date: Wed, 13 Nov 2024 16:33:24 +0000 From: lavish didi Subject: Two homophobic guys What I'm about to tell you happened before the pandemic. Maybe in 2019. I had gone to celebrate the Popular Saints of Lisbon with friends in the Graça area and at the end of the night, when there weren't many people on the street and I had too much alcohol in my blood, this happened. I was walking home, going the opposite way to the movement. I passed two guys together, maybe in their twenties or thirties, who started messing with me. Clearly they were half drunk too. * Oh faggot come here. - they said things like that and laughed as I was alone and, a little afraid of what might happen, I started to pick up the pace. They ended up overtaking me and I felt more at ease. They were tall and thin, very good looking, a mixed of preppy with sporty style. When I passed a large field that served as a parking lot, I saw them pissing between the cars and gained the courage. I entered the parking lot and went up to them. * Would you like a hand? They laughed out loud. * Only if it's your mouth. * I'd be happy to. - And I knelt down hidden in the background between the cars. Anyone passing by on the road couldn't see us, even though we weren't that far away. They arrived with their dicks still dripping with piss and started rubbing me in the mouth. * We could tell you liked dicks. * I have no intention of hiding it either. - I just looked them in the eyes and licked their cocks head. One was darker and the other whiter. The long dicks quickly grew in my mouth and I began to swallow deeply and with saliva. I tried not to linger too long so the other wouldn't feel jealous. * You're such a faggot. Fuck yeah. - While one of them were being sucked, the other controlled the movement so we wouldn't get caught. They gave me aggressive facefucks and slaps, treating me like a street whore. * Let's fill your mouth and face with cum, shall we? * Yes, please. - Afraid of being caught, they started jerking their own cocks very fast while I stayed there on my knees on the ground waiting for the milk. The brunette moaned loudly and started spurting milk all over my tongue. His friend couldn't bear to watch me take the spunk and started to spurt all over myself too. * You're such a fucking whore. Swallow it. - I swallowed what I could and stayed there on my knees while they left the park . I never saw them again, to my great regret, but whenever there are popular saints parties in Lisbon I remember this night. Upvote12Downvote0Go to comments

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-56

Date: Wed, 29 May 2024 01:01:54 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 56 Please consider donating something to support Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 56 Andrew and John looked at each other with surprise and mouthed "bottom boy?" to each other. "Hey guys!" Thomas greeted his welcoming party. "This is my brother Andrew and his boyfriend John," gesturing to each in turn before sweeping his arm to cover the brigade before them. "And these are the guys from the station." John and Andrew gave a wave to the group. On second glance, John realized there were a few women in the mix as well. "Nice to meet you all," he said. They returned the greeting as they gathered Thomas into their thrall and swept him off to the bar and its handsome scruffy bartender in a sleeveless black t-shirt for a drink. One of the taller guys with silvering hair tarried a little bit as John and Andrew followed the crowd. "Hi," he said extending his hand. "I'm Kerry. It's good to meet you guys. Thomas has been a great addition to the team, so it's always nice to meet family. We met your folks about a month ago," he said with a nod to Andrew. "He's a great kid, but I'm sure you already know that." "Yeah," replied Andrew. "Though I was more than a little impressed that he made it through all the training involved to get here," he chuckled. "Really? That's surprising: he was one of the top few students in his class." "No kidding! I wasn't sure he was going to make it through high school on time for a while there." "Well he did fine after that, I can tell you." "I'm glad to hear that." John still had a burning question that he couldn't shake: "`Bottom Boy'?" "Oh that," laughed Kerry. "It's just a fun old tradition at our station. We have a totem pole, and when somebody joins the ranks, we add their picture to it. As people leave, everyone else moves up, so the newest recruit is always at the bottom: our bottom boy or girl as we call them. Just a harmless initiation that started I don't know how long ago." "Ah," answered John. "That sounds fun." "We try to keep life as light as possible around here. Our line of work can be pretty intense, and we don't want it to be overwhelming." "I like it," John replied. "So is everyone from the station here now?" asked Andrew. "We had to leave a few behind just in case we get a call so they can ready the rigs. We're only two doors down, so we'll still be quick to respond if we need to. You'll probably notice that only a few of us will be doing any drinking. Those are the off-duty folks that came in just to celebrate." "And Thomas?" Andrew enquired. "He's not on the clock," assured Kerry. "We never let people work on their birthdays. And we've already got Ubers set up to take people home. We definitely don't want to be called for one of our own tonight." "That's probably for the best," John agreed. The party turned out to be a lot more fun than John expected after hearing most of the group wasn't drinking. There was lots of appetizers, pizza, and another cake to eat between rounds of karaoke, pool, darts, and various other activities. Andrew seemed to be hitting it off with Thomas's co-workers and surprised John by engaging in one conversation after another with many of them. Just as Kerry had promised, only a few were getting anything from the bar. Being the birthday boy, Thomas got more than his fair share. He wasn't quite hammered, but well past buzzed when he bumped into John in the men's room a while later. John was standing in the stall over the toilet, so Thomas went for the urinal. "Hey John!" he called from the other side of the stall wall. "Yeah?" "Is it true what they say about blow jobs?" A very surprised John responded. "What about them?" This could very quickly drop into a sketchy situation. "You know: that gays give better blow jobs." Hoo boy! Thomas was clearly less restrained than Andrew about these things. How could John handle this one without causing waves for Andrew like he just did at lunch? "I suppose that all depends on who's doing it," he finally said before flushing and turning to the sink to wash his hands. "Yeah, but I've heard guys are just better in general," Thomas insisted. "Well, all I'm going to say is it makes sense that a guy would have a better idea of what would feel good." He couldn't resist adding "I know I don't get any complaints." "No?" Thomas asked as he turned toward John with his dick in his hand. Here was a differently proportioned version of his own super sexy boyfriend asking some very leading questions. He was sweating just enough for his t-shirt to stick to his chest in places and his fly was open with his pants pulled low. He wasn't fully hard, but he was definitely not soft either. "No," John affirmed, conscious that he was in very dangerous territory right now. In the past, there would have been no hesitation whatsoever on John's part on demonstrating his claim right then and there. But this was Andrew's straight younger brother. Supposedly straight anyway. John recognized Thomas wasn't exactly sober, so he decided to chalk his behavior up to the booze. People do change a bit with alcohol in them, right? "Maybe you should show me," Thomas said with an expression somewhere between tease, hunger, and earnestness as he wagged his cock a bit. John's resolve faltered for a moment. He leaned in a little bit toward Thomas, who had moved himself right in front of John by this time. "You are one sexy little fucker," he growled quietly in Thomas's ear. "But I don't dare oblige you right now." He breathed in deeply before growling again. "Damn." John quickly straightened up and walked out, leaving Thomas there, dick in hand. Thomas was soon out as well, apparently none the worse for the exchange. If one cared to look, his bulge was still noticeable, but not obscenely so. He fell right back into his friendly jovial self as he interacted with his crew some more, though John was very aware that Thomas kept darting little glances his way from then on. About an hour and a half after their encounter, a call came through and most of the station crew instantly vanished. The fire truck dashed by the front door a minute or two later, with lights flashing and sirens blazing. Several of the remaining folks headed home shortly thereafter, leaving just a few of the birthday party folks left and the bar quieted down noticeably. John had to make another pit stop, and as the stall door was closed, he went to the urinal to empty his bladder. As he stood there, he heard some shuffling around next to him and could have sworn he heard a few furtive whispers before everything went silent again. His curiosity piqued, he flushed and then washed his hands when he finished. He opened the door as if to leave, but then closed it without going through, being very careful to be silent once the door had closed. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later: "Whoa, that was close!" a voice said quietly. "Don't worry about it," advised a second voice. "I promise you no one will probably care." "Maybe, but my brother is out there." "The tall skinny guy? I thought he might be. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure he's gay." "Why would you say that? How can you tell?" "Oh honey, we gays know our own when we see them. But enough about your brother. I need to get back to work soon. Still want to know how a guy sucks dick?" "Yeah." "That's what I thought," said who John suspected was the bartender. "Now pull that fucker back out." More rustling and shuffling commenced, and John used the opportunity to lock the outer door as silently as he could. "Ohhhh," moaned Thomas slowly. John imagined the hot bartender opening his mouth taking in Thomas's lovely cock. "Damn," Thomas breathed. John could hear the quiet slurping noises that come from sucking dick. His own was already at full attention, of course. Hot bartender plus hot firefighter Thomas equals super hot scene. Yeah, John wasn't leaving anytime soon. He pulled out his cock and began to stroke as he continued to listen to the furtive blow job happening inside the stall. He was inexorably pulled toward the stall door, but was frustratingly unable to see much of anything between the crack in the door. He could make out that it was indeed the bartender with the sleeveless shirt sitting on the toilet with Thomas standing in front of him, but all he could see was Thomas's elbow and the outside edge of the bartender's muscular arm and jean-clad leg. He desperately wanted to see more, but the gaps were simply too small. As the tantalizing sounds teased him to aggravation, he moved to the other end of the stall partition, but again the gap was simply too narrow. He could make out vague shadows reflecting on the tile, but that was it. "Oh god," Thomas said breathlessly from the other side. His moans were noticeably more intense a moment later. What did the barista do to elicit that bump in intensity? Was he doing that humming thing that Andrew drove him wild with? Was he fondling those blonde-fuzzed low hangers as he sucked on the hard rod in front of him? Was he reaching up to tweak those luscious red nipples as he caressed the cock in his mouth with his tongue? Was he stroking the base of that thick poker while corkscrewing the head with his suctioning lips? Was he pulling those firm ass cheeks toward him to get every last millimeter of cock down his throat? Had he managed to work his finger into the boy's tight virgin hole? John's imagination ratcheted up with ever more creative and implausible scenarios of what was happening on the other side of the wall to accompany the increasingly intense sounds and moans from the two unseen studs mere inches away. Thomas started gasping loudly for breath and the slurping sounds reverberated off the tile. John could hear he was about to blast his firehose down the throat of that hot scruffy bartender, and John's cock swelled in response. "Ungh!" Thomas called out suddenly, obviously in the throes of orgasm. "Ungh! Ungh!" John pictured the flood of hot seed shooting from that beautiful cock he had been teased with earlier and lost it. Luckily, he was still standing right next to the urinal, so he quickly turned and blasted it with his own load. The first spurt was thick enough that it plastered a large splat right in the middle that slowly began to ooze down into the bowl, with successive volleys trailing downward leaving a humorously Hawaii-shaped pattern on the porcelain. Thomas's cries faded quickly as he tried to regain his breath. "Damn," he gasped. "You liked that, did you?" asked the bartender, clearly with a smile. "Damn," Thomas repeated. "Then this will blow your mind," promised the bartender. John was still in the last throes of his ejaculations when he heard a sudden loud yelp from Thomas before he shot out backwards from the stall and staggered when he bumped into the exterior door. John's ingrained reflexes made him instantly whip around to face the unexpected commotion, and Thomas's eyes flew open at seeing John's big dick still dripping cum. "See what I mean?" John heard the bartender say, not realizing they weren't the only ones in the room. "Right after you shoot is when it's electrifyingly sensitive. No girl gets that." Thomas was still too shocked to speak, leaning against the door with his pants around his knees and his cock standing out, still very red and very shiny. John, too, was stunned for just a moment. "I'd better get back to my post," the bartender began as he left the stall. "I'm probably�-oh!" he cut himself short as he saw John quickly stuffing himself back into his shorts. "Hello!" "Hi," John replied with an embarrassed look. "I, uh, couldn't help myself..." "No worries," the bartender shrugged. "I just didn't realize I was doing a twofer," he said with a smile. Thomas was struggling to get himself together when John turned to him. "So, what's the verdict?" "Huh?" Thomas answered blankly. "Do guys give better blow jobs?" The bartender also looked at Thomas with interest. "That was by far the best I've ever gotten, so I'm going to have to say yes," he said. "Mind blowing." "Well, if you ever need an encore, you know where to find me," the bartender said to Thomas with a wink. "But I need to get back out there." He exited in a hurry and Thomas re-locked the door behind him before sinking down into a crouch and leaning back against it. "You okay?" John asked. "Um, Yes. No. I'm not sure." He again reminded John of Andrew. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, being very careful to be attentive but not too close. "I just... I don't know." Maybe that was the default answer for Andrew's entire family, John mused. "You said you enjoyed it right?" "Well yeah, but then you were there and then I remembered earlier, but now I'm just� I don't know." "Hey Thomas." "What?" "It's okay." "But it's not! I mean, I tried to ask you about it before, but then everyone was there, and then I tried again, but then I, well, I guess pushed. I wouldn't normally go for that at all, but maybe I was too buzzed because I did. And then you left, but I couldn't stop thinking about it, and then the guy at the bar must have seen I was distracted and asked what was up. No one was around just then, so I stupidly told him, and then he said he'd be willing to help if I wanted since it was my birthday. So when he got his next break, I said sure and he brought me in here. I thought just to talk about it in a private place, but then he said it's better to show than tell. I said he could if he wanted to. So he pulled my junk out and started to jack me off, but then someone came in�-I didn't know it was you, of course�-so we stopped for a minute. I was going to end it after I thought you'd left, but then it was like I couldn't help myself, and you probably heard the rest. I just don't know what to do." Everything came out in one big whoosh before Thomas stopped miserably. "It's still okay," John said. "But why did I even bring it up? What's wrong with me?" "Nothing's wrong with you at all, man," John assured him. "Curiosity is natural. And good." "But that's all it was: curiosity." "That's allowed," John smiled. "Nobody said you couldn't investigate questions you want answered." "But�" "Thomas, just stop. So you got a blow job. Big deal. Stop killing yourself over it." "But what if Andrew found out?" "Is that what this is about? You don't want Andrew to know you got a blow job?" "No." "In that case, rest assured your secret is safe with me. It's none of his business anyway, is it?" "I guess not, but what would he think?" "About you getting a blow job?" "Yeah. I mean from a guy." "Seriously, Thomas?" "Okay, I know it sounds stupid, but yeah." "I promise you he would never hold it against you. Knowing Andrew, he would be more upset and disappointed you didn't talk to him first." "That would just be weird. He's my brother." "Your older brother who loves you to death, yes. And wouldn't he know better than most?" "Well yeah." Thomas admitted before changing his mind. "Actually no: I don't think he's ever done anything with a woman." "Okay, you've got a point there. But still. He's trustworthy to a fault and loves you. Give him some credit." "I do, I swear," answered Thomas. "It would just be weird, that's all." "Okay," John said, backing down. "Out of curiosity, why did you ask me?" "It just seemed like you'd know," Thomas admitted sheepishly. "All of his other boyfriends have been weird, but you seem normal." "Thanks," John said with a laugh. "Honestly though," Thomas insisted. "He hasn't had many boyfriends, but they have been either swishy idiots or super pushy. You're cool." "Thanks," John repeated more seriously, taking the compliment for what it was. "And I'm sorry about earlier," Thomas blurted out. "I don't know what came over me." "Don't worry about it. Honestly, it's no big deal. In our circles, you might say it's as normal as a handshake. Not every gay guy is like that, but it's culturally common and no one would bat an eye at it. Trust me: you're a handsome guy and that bartender isn't the only one who'd love to do that for you. I would in a heartbeat." John didn't realize he licked his lips after he spoke, but Thomas got an odd expression on his face. "Then why did you say no?" Thomas asked him. "Because you're my boyfriend's brother. Andrew is more reserved than you, and I don't want to do anything that might hurt him. Ever. Even though I don't have any reservations about it, that doesn't mean Andrew is on the same page. Yet, anyway. Who knows what the future holds, but for now that might be a bit too much for him to handle." "You really love him, don't you?" Thomas asked bluntly. "More than he can possibly know." "Then I'm glad he has you." "Me too." "You're not going to tell him, are you?" "No, I won't betray you. It's not my place. Someday I hope you'll trust him enough to tell him yourself, though. I don't like keeping secrets from him." "Maybe someday." "I hope so." Thomas's openness reminded John so much of Andrew that he instinctively gave him a hug, recovering just enough to make sure it was nothing more than a quick bro hug. Thomas responded in kind. "What are we going to say if they ask what we've been up to?" "Just follow my lead," John answered confidently. "Okay. And John?" "Yes?" "Welcome to the family." "Thanks, man." They washed their hands and took a breath before opening the door and heading back out into the bar. Andrew swooped down on them instantly. "Where have you guys been? Everyone else left a long time ago!" "Sorry, Andrew. We were just having a man to man talk." "Seemed like a long one," Andrew observed. "You know how you talk about teachable moments?" "Yeah." "Well this was one of those." "Teachable moments, huh?" "Yep." "What was the topic?" asked Andrew as he sipped from his glass. Surprising John and causing Andrew to nearly choke on his drink, Thomas answered boldly. "Blow jobs." ********* What do you think should happen next? Tell me your thoughts! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-70

Date: Sun, 08 Dec 2024 15:02:25 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 70 The Man with the Jeep Chapter 70 John, taken off guard, didn't answer at first, despite his cock instantly perking up at the stranger's touch. The old trapper (John couldn't think of a better descriptor) made three complete strokes before John could respond. "Thank you, but no, I can't let you do that." The old man's hand froze on his dick without letting go, and his crestfallen face betrayed his disappointment. "I git it," he mumbled as he reluctantly released John's pole. "I know I ain't a looker, but I seen you a min't ago and figured I might could help ya." "I guarantee it's not at all what you're thinking, but I can't right now." John had stopped judging potential play partners by looks decades ago. You never knew how fun someone could be by age or outward appearance. If anything, he found the sexy were generally less exciting when the clothes came off. But he didn't want to make things any worse with Andrew. "Mmhmm," the man said, clearly unconvinced. John could tell he was used to being discounted. Yet another guy with a broken past, John thought fleetingly. I already have a project man I'm working on, but that doesn't mean I can't be considerate of this one as well. "I'm John," he said on a whim, automatically reaching out his right hand. The old man paused before gingerly grasping it with his own. "Jeb." "Nice to meet you, Jeb. Not to be too blunt, but what are you really doing here?" "Like I said, I's lookin' fer food." Still only a half-truth at best, John guessed. He decided he'd call the other man's bluff. "Well, you already know I don't lock this cabin. I leave it open so lost campers�and hikers�have shelter and food if they get caught in a storm. I don't mind sharing, but I don't want to have it empty if the real need arises for someone else. You feel me?" "I gitcha," Jeb replied soberly. "Good. Now, if you're serious about earning it, I'd be grateful if you could start a fire in the hearth for me." Jeb perked up a bit at that. "I kin do that." "That would be great." Jeb made his way inside and set about making a fire in the fireplace. John let him work, but still kept an eye on him through the open door. To his credit, Jeb never approached the bed or the duffle John had tossed there while working on his assignment. Obviously no stranger to making fires, Jeb made swift work of getting one going and even offered to fill the pot with water to start heating for later, which John happily accepted. "Anythin' else ya need?" Jeb asked after he was finished. "No thanks," John replied. "But I have a question for you." "Yeah?" "Do you always go around offering hand jobs to strangers?" Jeb visibly bristled. All of a sudden John realized that maybe it wasn't the best time to ask questions that could get him into trouble. His hands weren't in the best condition, and he didn't want to make them worse with a fist fight. "No, but I ain't got no use fer womenfolk, if `at's whatcher gettin' at." "Hey, I'm not judging," John added quickly. "I have a boyfriend myself." "Y'already told me `at." "Okay then. I was just going to say if you're into that sort of thing, you might be interested in an event happening down the hill tomorrow night." "Whassat?" "Just a bunch of guys that get together to have fun.' "What kinda guys?" asked Jeb, trying unsuccessfully to look nonchalant. "All kinds. It happens every month and you're welcome to check it out if you'd like. If you go that way a bit, you'll find the stairs that go down the cliff..." "I know `em," Jeb inserted, inadvertently confirming John's suspicion that he wasn't just passing through for the first time. "You take those all the way down and follow the river for a bit. When it cuts hard to the right, turn left, and you'll find a path that will take you to a big old barn." "I dunno," Jeb started slowly. "I'm not much one for shindigs." "It's entirely up to you," John assured him. "You won't be judged by anyone there." Jeb still looked doubtful. "If you want to get there early, it starts around sunset. There's a full-on locker room with showers and everything." Jeb's expression changed with the mention of showers. "But how much izzit?" "How much...?" John asked quizzically for a moment before he realized what Jeb meant. "It runs on donations, but there's no charge to play." "Hmm," Jeb harrumphed. "We'll see." "No worries either way," John said with a shrug. "Thanks again for the fire, and you are welcome to grab some food." "Thanks." Jeb went inside and came out with four cans, holding them up for John's approval. "Looks good," he said. "Have fun exploring and keep safe." "Aye," said the gruff old man before shambling off into the woods. Well, that was interesting. The distraction helped clear John's mind too. He knew he was a bulldog about things, and sometimes it took something outside to help him get proper perspective. While inviting Jeb to the Club Jacks party, it occurred to him that he must have been subconsciously planning to go himself. Why else would he think that camping in a cabin alone in the woods with bandaged hands was a good idea? He didn't want to hurt Andrew any more than he already had, so he decided going to a big orgy was probably the worst thing he could do right now. But at the same time, he was self-aware enough to know he was still bent out of shape with Andrew. Why was this so much harder to deal with than normal life? He tried to think of what his therapist would say. Probably stop and name his feelings. Okay. Disappointment. Hurt. Anger. He could sense there was another lurking there as well, but it took some time to pin this one down. A long time later, he figured it out: Jealousy. Once he pinpointed it, it was obvious, and John kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. The therapist would next have him explore his feelings and see what triggered them. Again, the disappointment, hurt, and anger came from Andrew not trusting him, right? But the jealousy put things in a new light. He'd had open relationships before and had never been jealous despite sometimes ridiculous amounts of shenanigans. There was nothing to be jealous of. His boyfriends were of the same mind he was, and even though he knew deep down they weren't forever bonds, there was a kinship that made everything copacetic. What made Andrew different? Everything! Andrew did not have his mindset at all. He thought about things completely differently. It was what made him simultaneously fascinating and frustrating. Andrew was also a little bit of a project. There were plenty of hurt and damaged men out there (as Jeb had so recently brought to the surface), but there was something sweet and unassuming about Andrew that he had latched onto and didn't want to let go. He was determined to keep him for the rest of his life. And there it was. There was no undercurrent of temporary with Andrew. John was completely smitten with him from the first. That very thing is was what made it worthwhile to spend his effort on him. And now that Andrew was "no longer looking for the exit" as he put it, John thought they should be on the same page. Why then should he be jealous if Andrew played with others? Maybe it was because that was how he lost his boyfriends before. They'd find someone more interesting/exciting/hung and then it was over. He did NOT want that to happen with Andrew. He wanted to stay the center of Andrew's world just as Andrew had become his. And that would never happen if he continued to act like a moron. Like camping by himself in the woods with jacked up hands. Time to be worth being faithful to, he decided. He fumbled himself dressed again, stowed the hammock, put out the fire, grabbed his bag, and headed for the Jeep. He paused once he started up the old machine though. Where should he go? He still didn't feel like going home and didn't want to stay in the campground and be tempted to go to the barn party. He opted to turn the Jeep uphill instead. The trail in this direction was much more sparse and raw, because he seldom drove up past the cabin. But this time he did. He made his way up until he saw a specific rock outcropping on one side that prompted him to pull over to the left of the path. He grabbed his bag again and made his way a short distance through some low shrubbery before he found what looked like a skinny cave in the side of a cliff. Making sure to be noisy and warn any critters holed up inside before he got there, he walked in and pushed the button next to the handleless black door along the back wall. "Hello? Who is this?" "It's Johnny, Grams!" "Oh! Hello dear! Let me ring you in!" A small buzz and click later, and the door swung outward to reveal a warm and inviting, if somewhat small, stairwell. John walked onto the short landing before the door swung shut behind him. The walls were a cozy shade of tan, while the carpet was a deep brown�-the same shade as the dirt outside. Instead of light fixtures, there were diffused light strips where the walls met the ceiling and the baseboards as the stairs softly curved downward. John made his way down and into the kitchen where his grandparents had come to greet him. "Johnny dear! It's so good to�-" Grandma Nora greeted him before she cut herself off. "What did you do to your hands?" "Should we see the other guy?" Grandpa Liam joined in. "I, um, hurt myself boxing a punching bag." "Did you now?" Gram said. "Well, let's take a look at it," clearly brooking no option for refusal. She carefully unwrapped the mass of gauze and tape. "You did this yourself, didn't you?" she asked, giving him a look. "Yes, ma'am." "I have to admit it's not bad for a one-handed man, but next time get some help. I'm sure Andrew would have been as happy to help as we would." "Yes, ma'am." "How is he?" Grandpa Liam asked. "Oh, he's fine," John replied. John could tell from his face that he knew at once that something was up, but he didn't press the issue. Grandma Nora had finally gotten all the bandages off, and John found his knuckles and fingers in much better shape than he had thought. Definitely not fully healed, but clean with no sign of infection and properly scabbed over where it should be. She applied some lotion to try to help soothe any pulling or splitting. "With those moon gloves, I thought you might have done something awful, but it actually looks fine. I don't even think you really need bandages anymore. Unless you are planning to do something stupid like camp in the woods tonight." John flinched a little at that. "Uh huh," she responded. "I suspected as much. Consider yourself grounded this evening. And try not to do anything that would make you need to wash your hands, young man." "Yes, ma'am." John ended up staying the rest of the weekend with his grandparents, avoiding both deep conversation and the tempting excitement of Club Jack. By the time he began to make his way home on Sunday afternoon, he felt recharged and purposeful again. He was going to have a frank chat with Andrew that he hoped wouldn't end up being confrontational like last time, but even if it did, he needed some resolution this time. He brainstormed ideas as he crashed down the mountain in the Jeep, then let the wind bat them around as he drove home in his convertible. Nothing quite seemed to settle before he got home, but he texted Andrew anyway to confirm lunch with him tomorrow. Not at a caf� this time. No, this time he wanted it to be just the two of them. Andrew confirmed and the stage was set. After a weekend of tidying up the house and finishing some minor repairs he had been procrastinating on, Andrew felt accomplished. It was always nice to be reminded he was capable and not just someone else's sidekick. That was maybe a little unfair, because up until now, John had made a point of making him feel special. Of course, his little revelation at lunch last Thursday kind of undercut that, but at least he was honest about it, which was something. His previous boyfriends were never upfront about that kind of thing, preferring to think they could keep secrets from him. But the truth always comes out, and when it did, he cut them loose. He could handle many things, but lying and cheating were not on that list. He was still on the fence about this "open relationship" thing, but he was willing to give it a try. Apparently willing enough even to commit himself long-term to it, though he wasn't sure how to handle it when it came down to it. He'd figure it out for John. He had foreseen this moment when John started talking about his past. It was outside of Andrew's experience, but very much a constant thread in John's, so there was bound to be�hiccups along the way. He missed John a lot this week, but in hindsight, maybe it was a good thing that they had some time apart. That hadn't happened much for a while now. Once he'd had time to think about it, he realized it wasn't as critical as he had always thought. John wasn't leaving him for someone better, was he? At least not yet, he couldn't help but add silently. He'd moved past The Brady Thing by the end of the day. What still irked him was John's sudden silence. John was a bit chatty and to get a sudden (nearly) silent treatment was disconcerting. Had he done something wrong without knowing it? He couldn't fathom what it could be, but he couldn't think of any other cause. If it had only been after John had played with Brady, guilt could be a plausible explanation, but he had started acting that way before, so it had to be Andrew's fault, right? All weekend long, he'd tried to think of where he'd mis-stepped, but kept drawing blanks. When John finally texted to confirm lunch tomorrow, it was a big relief, albeit tinged with uncertainty. Maybe he would finally find out what happened. Monday morning proved slow as far as Andrew was concerned, but when it was finally lunch time, he clocked out to meet John. The break room proved to be a little crowded, but John found an office in an unused wing of the building for them to eat in away from other people. As soon as they stepped inside, John turned and wrapped Andrew into a big hug. Caught unaware, it took a moment before Andrew returned the gesture. "I've missed you," John said sincerely. "I've missed you too," Andrew replied, trying not to cry. They stood there for a few minutes enjoying their togetherness before breaking apart to sit down on chairs side by side. Andrew turned his chair slightly toward John so he could see his face and John followed suit. "Can we talk about things?" Andrew asked. "Or is that why you found this hidden office where I can't make a scene?" He realized after it came out of his mouth that it lacked the humor he was aiming for. "Yes," John answered seriously. "Let's talk about things." "Okay. I don't mean to throw off your train of thought or anything, but I'd really like to know why I haven't heard from you like normal for more than a week now." "You really don't know?" "How could I? I've been wracking my brain this whole time, and you haven't exactly been around to ask." "I thought last Thursday that if I came clean about Brady that you'd come clean with me." "About what?" "Really?" "Yes, John, really. What's your deal?" "I wanted you to tell me about Grandpa Liam and Alex." "What about them?" "Do I have to spell it out for you?" "Apparently so, because I have no idea what you're talking about." "I want you to admit to me that you played with Alex and Grandpa Liam." Andrew was dumbstruck. "But I didn't!" he finally exclaimed when he found his voice. "When could I possibly have even done that?" "The first night we stayed at Gramp and Gram's and at the party for YaYa." Andrew was still confused, running through everything that had happened over a week ago now. "I haven't played with anyone but you except for when Duncan joined us, and that's the gods' honest truth." "Don't lie to me!" John said angrily. "How dare you!" replied an equally angry Andrew. "I'm not lying!" "I watched you do it," John snapped. "So don't even try to cover it up!" "What are you talking about? You must have a really vivid imagination, because I swear I've only slept with you!" "I'm not talking about sleeping! I'm talking about sex!" Andrew's eyes narrowed sharply. "Don't you go down Semantics Road with me. You know exactly what I mean!" "Then you're going to hold to that?" John challenged him. "Of course I am," Andrew snapped. "I can only vouch for what I know. We were having sex when your grandfather fucking walked in the door! Is that what you're holding against me?" "No, later." "There was no later," Andrew insisted. "All four of us had a great day, played cards, and went to bed, where you spooned me all night. How could I have snuck off to meet up with anyone when you were holding me all night? And with your grandpa? Seriously? That never even occurred to me! I don't shift gears that fast, Mr. Family Play!" "I didn't spoon you all night," John declared. "I was thirsty and left to get some water." "So?" "So that's when you played with him." "You are so delusional! I didn't move until you came back! I was exhausted!" "Not too exhausted to call Gramps a loon and to get in bed with you!" "I would never! I called YOU a loon and then..." Andrew trailed off as a big pit of doubt grew in his gut. "But I said that to you," he whispered, his face as white as a sheet of paper. "No," said John. "You said that to Grandpa Liam, who was only too happy to oblige you. I know, because I was watching from the doorway." Andrew was dumbstruck. "Why didn't you stop me?" Andrew he finally said miserably. "I thought it was you!" "I assumed you knew who you were talking to," John replied. "I just barely got back to the room when you said that, so I figured I missed the first part of a longer conversation." "No, you didn't," breathed Andrew. "That was all there was to it, I swear." "I believe you," said John. "I couldn't believe what I was seeing." "How come you never said anything?" "Because I was waiting for you to tell me, and I didn't want to embarrass you about it." Andrew felt numb. How could he not have known? He couldn't tell his own boyfriend apart from his grandfather? That's just messed up on so many levels! Looking back, he remembered thinking how much easier it was to take that night compared to other times�especially the very next morning in the shower. He remembered being surprised at how much energy "John" had gotten from a glass of water. He remembered the vice-grip-like arm lock he was held in that John never did. All the signs were there, he had just been too tired to pick up on them. How stupid he was! "I'm sorry. I thought it was you," he said miserably. And then another thought occurred to him. "But that also means that your Grandpa Liam..." he couldn't even finish saying it out loud. John's anger had apparently subsided in the face of Andrew's revelations. "Don't worry about that old codger," he said gently, putting his hand on Andrew's shoulder. "I'll talk to him about it, and it'll all be fine, I promise." "I don't know how I can even look at him again," Andrew admitted. "I'm so embarrassed." "You shouldn't be. He thinks you're amazing just like I do. He didn't get weird toward you after that, did he?" Andrew blanched again. They had spent another day and a half together and he hadn't even known what he had done. That meant John was right: it wouldn't change a thing unless Andrew made it change. "But what if he thinks�-" "He thinks you're hot." Andrew had no idea how to process that. "What makes you say that?" "He did." "To you?" "Yeah." Andrew was incredulous and felt like his world was spinning. "Am I the only one who didn't realize what was happening?" "No; just me and Gramps," John assured him. "And I told you: I'll take care of him. Don't worry about it." "And you said I played with Alex too? I'm pretty sure I would have remembered that!" "I was certain you had, but now I'm not so sure about that one," John admitted. "When?" "At YaYa's party." "You mean when I went to the restroom?" "Yeah." "Well, let me assure you that did NOT happen." "It was only that you left just after he did and then you both came back some time later almost simultaneously." "Um, yeah..." "Wait, was I right?" "No! It's just that, well, when I walked into the Men's room, he was already there at the urinal." "So?" "He was standing there, but he'd peeled down the front of his pants and was stretching backwards, so when I came in, I saw�him." "Oh!" John exclaimed knowingly. "He does tend to do that." "Anyway, I did not do anything with him. I went straight into the stall." "So what took so long?" "If you must know, he started talking to me and asking questions." "He does that too," John acceded with a knowing smile. "But seeing him got me hard and then I couldn't go, and he wouldn't leave for a while, so yeah." "He is hot." "Yes, he is," Andrew agreed, maybe a touch more vehemently than he meant to. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess." He bent his head down, but John did likewise and leaned in so their foreheads were touching. "So am I," John confessed. "I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions and blew all this out of proportion. I didn't know I could be jealous before now. But this whole thing has made me see that I never want to be without you. Just the thought scares me." "I don't want to be without you either. Even if you can be an ass sometimes." "Did we just make up?" John asked. "I think so." Andrew agreed. "It seems like we should seal this somehow," John whispered. "Oh yeah?" Andrew whispered back. "What did you have in mind?" John leaned in so his lips were close to Andrew's ear... ********* Thanks for reading my tale! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Also, it would be awesome if you could throw a few bucks at Nifty to help them keep this site up for our fun stories! Thanks again for reading, and I hope you have great day! -DurtyRiter DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

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Date: Mon, 08 Jan 2024 20:12:34 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 47 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 46 Andrew's mind spun. How is this even possible? Leave it to John to come up with something like this! But that was only the first split second: Andrew's attention was quickly diverted to the dueling sensations from his ass and cock as John moved himself up and down. Since they were obviously moving at the same pace, he could feel John's ass milking his cock just as he could feel his own ass being stretched by John. It was almost like fucking yourself. And it was hot. John was thankfully taking it nice and slow so they didn't mash their balls too badly and Andrew was conscious that they couldn't go very deep, physics being what they are. Even though both dicks were bent down at the base to make it happen, neither had trouble staying hard. He was proudly grateful that they were both long enough to pull it off at all, because it was profoundly bonding. John kept at it for admirable amount of time, considering he was essentially doing squats on one leg, but it wasn't super long before the intensity of the moment started to catch up to them and Andrew began to feel the beginnings of that unstoppable train of orgasm. John either felt the same thing or could sense it in Andrew, because he suddenly lifted off and spun himself around, swinging his couch leg through Andrew's splayed limbs to land on the floor. He stepped over Andrew with his other leg so he straddled his body and faced him before grabbing Andrew's cock and sitting back onto it. Being upside down, Andrew didn't have much leverage to participate, but he quickly grabbed John's meat and stroked it apace while John drilled himself with Andrew's cock. He experimented with different pressures until he got the right reaction from John: a gasp. Soon, John's breathing intensified and picked up speed, and Andrew knew he was about to let loose with his load. Andrew kept pulling on the swollen member in his hand until John tensed up and almost lifted off of his cock. Andrew picked up his pace, determined to draw out every drop of John's load. And what a load it was! Thick spurts of cream shot out, dousing Andrew's face, neck, and chest with the hot sauce. Andrew didn't keep counting after twelve volleys, but John seemed to keep going on forever. When he finally stopped, it formed a river down Andrew's torso and neck and dripped back from his face. "Wow," breathed Andrew. "That's some load!" John grinned. "What can I say? You bring it out of me! And now for you!" John got back between Andrew's legs from behind while leaving Andrew where he was. He leaned down to scoop up some of his own load from Andrew's body and coated his still-hard cock with it before nudging the head against Andrew's opening. "Ready?" he asked, looking into Andrew's eyes. "Alw�" Andrew began when John suddenly drove himself all the way in, taking Andrew by surprise. "You were about to say `always,' right?" he said with a mischievous leer. Andrew didn't bother to retort this time as John's pecker ground against his prostate more solidly than ever at this angle. Instead, he grabbed his meat and flogged it for all he was worth. John only got three drills into before Andrew arched his back and shot his own load all over what John had already covered him with. John playfully continued to dick him after he shot before he relented and withdrew from Andrew's hot love tunnel. Andrew was still spasming in the after-throes of orgasm as John gently pulled him away from the couch so he could lay flat on the ground. "Are you okay?" he asked Andrew. "Yeah, why?" Andrew replied, trying to pretend he wasn't still gasping for breath. "Because you are very red from being upside down so long. Like cherry red, for real." "Maybe a little dizzy," Andrew admitted. "But it was for a good cause," he added with a smile. "So now I'm a cause. I see how it is." "Oh, shut up and use that mouth of yours for something meaningful." John leaned over and accommodated him with a good long kiss. "What did you think?" John asked when they came up for air. "That was hot! I never imagined anything like that!" "Not everyone can do it." "Oh! So it's only because of how amazing you are, is it?" "It takes two, so if you want to chalk it up to amazing, just know that you are as `guilty' as I am. Are you ready to own that for yourself too?" Andrew was instantly thrust into his internal paradox again. John was amazing: that was a given. And his logic was valid, too-�albeit trivial in this instance. What they had just done required two equal partners, didn't it? But Andrew just couldn't make that leap to give himself more than trivial credit. John noticed Andrew's conundrum, of course, and decided that it was time to see if he could dig a little deeper. He turned to look directly into Andrew's eyes. "I mean it," he said earnestly. "Why do you have such a hard time giving yourself due worth?" "I don't," Andrew replied defensively. "I'm just not�" He stopped mid-sentence at the stern look John gave him. "Yeah," John said. "You are. Why can't you see it?" "I'm totally dripping with cum here," Andrew said, trying to change the subject. But John was not about to let that happen. "Yes, you are," John said, unmoved. "Can I get up and clean off?" "That depends," John replied. "We can get cleaned up if you promise to talk with me about this. And I mean now." Andrew saw John would brook no more deferments on the subject. "Fine," he finally acquiesced. "Okay then, let me grab you a towel." John was back in just a moment with a small hand towel. "Have you always thought of yourself as less?" he asked directly as he began to gently wipe the majority of mess from Andrew's body. "I don't know," answered Andrew, as he wrestled with himself. He was still reluctant to pursue the matter, but he had promised John to try. "Okay," said John as he paused in his work. "If you really don't know, you don't know, but I am going to challenge you to not use those words again in this conversation. This is holding you back from success in so many areas, and I want you to be free. That said, let me re-phrase the question. When did you start to feel like someone else is better than you?" "What kind of question is that? Everyone is better than me at something." "Point taken, but..." John trailed off in thought for a moment as he tried to clean the little cum puddles from the rug. "Tell me, have you ever played one of those video games where you start by creating a character and you get to choose ratios? Like how much strength, how much defense, how much speed, how much endurance, and how smart your character is?" "Yeah." "I believe people are like that: we all have say 100 points to distribute within ourselves, but we are all limited to the same 100. Some people throw all their eggs into one basket, like gymnasts aiming for the Olympics. Their entire life revolves around that goal. They are definitely going to be better at gymnastics than you or me, but they have to compromise somewhere else to do it. Maybe they have absolutely zero social life and no friends, for instance. Maybe they have health issues because of a super strict diet coupled with the physical demands they put on their bodies. Do you still think they are better than you?" Andrew thought for a moment. "Only at gymnastics." "There you go! We may all be different, but in the end, we are all equal: no better, no worse." "Okay." "What is your first response to that concept?" "Sounds valid." "How do you feel about it though?" "I don't--I mean it doesn't really jive with me somehow." "Why not?" Andrew had to work really hard not to say he didn't know. "It seems like it's missing something." "What do you think is missing?" "I knew you were going to ask that," complained Andrew. "Because you're smart," smiled John. "So, what's missing?" "Maybe personality or motivation should be part of the equation." "Maybe you're right," John said as he drew Andrew to his feet and led him to the bathroom. "So, if we add in personality or motivation, how would that make people better or worse?" "It depends on who they are, of course." "Give me examples." "My grandma is better." "Why?" asked John as he started the shower. "Because she was gentle, generous, and always had a smile and a heart for others. She stayed home to raise my mom and the rest of the family while Grandpa worked. And I don't think she missed a day of church in her life.""And those things make her better?" "I think so." John fiddled with the controls to set a good temperature. "Okay, what's an opposite example?" "I wouldn't classify Hitler as better," said Andrew as he followed John into the shower. "For the sake of argument, why not?" "Because he just wanted to kill everyone." "Did he?" John asked with a smile. "He definitely singled out those he hated, but remember, he was legally elected to government years and years before he started World War Two. That speaks of long-term vision, patience, self-discipline, and the ability to get along with people at least on a surface level. All of these are generally considered good traits, right? If you talked to Germans at the time, they would tell you he was inspiring enough to give millions of his countrymen purpose and a common goal. They thought he was better for decades. It wasn't until later that they changed their minds." "Just for the record, I'm not saying you're wrong," chuckled John. "I'm just challenging you to think a little outside of your paradigms here." "I understand." "Now let's go back for a moment. You said your grandma was better than you, right?" "Yeah�" said Andrew hesitantly. "Because she was gentle, generous, happy, and cared about others�especially family. You do realize those are all things you have in common with her, right?" "What?" "You are gentle, generous, happy, and care about others. You live on your own, but I don't doubt for an instant that you would prioritize your family just as much as she did. I'd love to hear more about them, by the way, but we can do that later. Do you think she's better because she went to church?" "Well..." began Andrew. "It's not so much that she went than her faith was super important to her, and she lived it by example and not just by telling people about it." "So she was religious." "I guess so, but that doesn't do her justice by a long shot. She lived it." "Got it. She unabashedly lived by her ideals. Is that more like it?" "Yeah." "Well so do you, Bub." "But I don't even go to church anymore." "I see. Is going to church a big part of your values then?" "Um..." started an uncertain Andrew. "Not necessarily. My faith is very real, but very personal. Sometimes church is good and sometimes church is bad. I stopped going when I came out, though. I got super tired of feeling like I was being judged all the time just because I'm gay. I know that God knows who I am since He made me. I suppose He could change me if He wanted to, but I've tried everything I know of and I'm still as gay as ever." "Ah..." said John with a knowing tone. "What?" "You might have just gotten to the root of it all." "I did?" "Maybe. You said you felt judged." "Of course I did." "Of course. It's completely valid too." The light snapped on in Andrew's head. "You think that's why I don't...value myself as much? But I don't care about those people. That's why I stopped going, remember?" "I remember. And you may not care about those folks, but that doesn't mean you don't care about being judged." "I suppose," said Andrew slowly. He didn't want to admit how stark and obvious it had become to him. It looked like John was right after all. How had he missed it all these years? He really didn't care what those people thought about him anymore. That was true. A part of him thought it was a shame that he didn't, but most of him felt a lot lighter than an hour ago. Andrew felt like John might not judge him about his past after all, so he talked about growing up attending a Christian church, where it was about always doing the right things and never doing the wrong things. Even though the same church taught that it was impossible to do. Andrew had tried desperately to be a "good" person while being taught that humans are inherently bad. It was only through faith in Christ that people could be saved from themselves. Even in high school when he was full of vim and vigor, he would ask adults for clarification, but they seemed to know no more than he did (despite speaking with apparent authority), so he continued to live as though faith didn't exist while pinning his hopes in the hereafter that it did. No wonder he was confused. Andrew finally reached the conclusion that if God made him this way, then this is the way he was supposed to be. He just wanted to be the best version of himself that he could be. "And that, my love, is exactly what I want for you," exclaimed John. "Nothing less will do. I know I said I would wait to talk about your family, but where do they fall in this conversation?" "They still have their faith too. Thankfully, only my sister was disapproving in any way, but even she's come around to accepting me for who I am. I suspect they all still struggle with it to some extent, but I don't feel condemned by anyone anymore. I was surprised how my folks adapted right from the first. They have always been big on respecting people's boundaries, and I guess this kind of fell into that category. I know they didn't teach me this was the way to be, but they aren't continually trying to prove I'm going to Hell or something." "That's good!" "Yeah, agreed Andrew. "Most of the gays I knew who came out were met with open hostility and overt ostracization right out of the gate. I'm super grateful I didn't have to go through that, getting kicked out of home, or sent to those rehab places or anything. Those are so messed up." "Yeah they are," agreed John. "I'm glad you were spared that." Now that they were all clean, John shut off the water and turned to Andrew. "How are you feeling right now?" "Clean!" Andrew replied promptly. John rolled his laughing eyes. "And about talking all this out?" "Good," Andrew admitted. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I even feel lighter somehow. I think I feel normal." "That's the way it should be," John said. "Now we just have to break that habit you have of making comments that say otherwise. You may see the light now, but we still need to get you out of these woods of self-doubt." "Yes sir." John wrapped Andrew into a bare-naked bear hug. "I'm here for you," he whispered. "I think I know that," Andrew whispered back. John stepped back. "Now hand me one of those towels before I freeze to death!" "Yes sir!" ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :) Also, if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-69

Date: Sat, 30 Nov 2024 01:09:19 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 69 The Man with the Jeep Chapter 69 When lunch finally rolled around the next day, John suggested going to a nice little caf� rather than just meeting up to share the meals they brought from home. He was so excited that they had barely ordered when he started talking about establishing some ground rules between them like not spending the night with strangers, giving each other the power to veto each other's plans if either were uncomfortable with an imminent situation, trying to let each other know before something happened if possible or at least immediately after if it did, and biggest of all, no secrets about playing with others. Andrew said it was very much in line with what he was thinking too, which was nice to hear. John was fairly certain they had talked about a lot of this before, but there was something momentous about having it all said at once in a direct way that just felt right. Once they were definitively on the same page, John admitted to Andrew that he had to come clean about something, and told him of his fling with Brady the night before. He had hoped that his openness and candor would encourage Andrew to do the same, but that was not how it worked out. Andrew looked stunned and inexplicably hurt. "Oh," is all he said in a quiet voice. Instantly, John mentally backpedaled. "I'm sorry," John said to fill the void. "I didn't mean to hurt you." `Liar,' screamed a voice in his head. `That's exactly what you were going for!' To drown out that condemning thought, he kept going. "I just got carried away. I felt guilty about it instantly, and that's what made me realize we should have boundaries set..." `Liar, liar, liar,' said his conscience. Andrew still did not reply before lunch was served. John could not escape from the feeling that he'd just betrayed Andrew in exactly the way he swore he never would. It felt like he was cutting his own heart out with a spoon. What was he thinking last night? He did not intrude on Andrew's silence until he felt like he was going to explode. "Would you please forgive me?" Andrew paused long enough that John had given up hope for a response before he finally answered. "Yes," he said quietly. They both shuffled food around their plates pretending to eat for a little while before John dared to speak up again. "Did I just kill us?" he finally asked. "No," came the next quiet reply. "I told you I'm all in for the long haul, and I stand by that. I just wish you had made a different choice." No condemnation, just resignation and sadness. John felt absolutely horrible. "Look, I need to get back to work, so I will talk to you later." Before John could he even respond, Andrew was gone. Well, that was an absolute disaster. There was no sense in the pretense of eating at this point, so he flagged the waiter down to pay the bill and box up the uneaten food. He rued his mishandling of the situation as he drove back to work. He had been so sure everything would be ironed out and they would be good again, but instead he had hurt Andrew and made everything worse. And then another thought pushed its way in: Andrew hadn't even come clean himself! John had been so focused on Andrew's feelings that he had forgotten what had started this whole ball rolling. Andrew was the one who had started messing around and he didn't even have the decency to admit it? So that's how it was! He was instantly mad, hurt, and indignant all over again. He was so riled up by the time he got back to work, he realized he didn't dare go back in. He texted his boss that lunch didn't agree with him, and he needed to go home. After all, it was essentially true, right? He waited a few minutes to get his boss's "get well" reply text and went home, driving stupidly and aggressively all the way. He fumed while the slow gate opened to let him into the building, and as soon there was (barely) enough room to go through without knocking the gate over, he recklessly raced through the arches, tossed the tail out in his turn toward his parking spot, and skidded his car to a stop, barely missing his dad's motorcycle. Rather than dispel his tension, it just continued to ratchet up. He got out and slammed his door shut with such a rattling bang that he knew he'd regret it later. He didn't even bother going upstairs. He made a beeline for the dusty punching bag hanging at the back of his parking stall and proceeded to pound the hell out of it for the next two hours with his bare hands. By the time he was finally too spent to keep going, his work clothes were thrashed with sweat, dirt, and blood from his bleeding fists. Only then did he drag himself upstairs. His hands were so swollen that it took a bit to unlock his front door, which did nothing to soothe his mood. He finally made it into his apartment and his training kicked in. He mindlessly shed his clothes on his way to the shower, where he ignored the stinging pain from his hands while he cleaned himself up and then sterilized and bandaged his wounds. His mind was not in a resting mood by any means, but his exhausted body walked up the stairs and threw itself down on the soft bed. He startled himself a bit to realize he was crying before his body mercifully shut down and he fell asleep. The next morning, John woke in an almost complete ache. He moved his hands up to rub his itchy eyes before being reminded they might as well be mitts with all the gauze he'd wrapped them up in yesterday. Ugh. He recalled the intense session with his long-neglected bag, then the brutal way he treated his car, and the completely inconsiderate way he drove home. He was ashamed of himself. He knew better than to behave that way. He made his way downstairs for his morning piss through his morning wood, which he was also somehow mad at. He went to the kitchen and realized he had little use of his fingers to cook with, so he had to settle for some boring yogurt and a banana. He realized the irony of not being able to cook after bringing home two uneaten lunches from yesterday, but he had left them in the car, so they were probably not especially safe to eat anymore and, in all likelihood, smelling up his car. Ugh. He managed to use the audio feature on his phone to text his boss and let her know he would be taking a sick day today. He heard it beep with a reply, but didn't bother to read it past "OK, sorry to hear you're still sick..." Now what? Without his hands, there wasn't much he could do besides sit and watch TV. Ugh. He could tell this was already going to be a long day. He eventually went down to get the leftover food out of the car so it wouldn't smell it up too much and confirmed the lunches were indeed stale and not worth eating. Ugh. He made his way back upstairs and texted Andrew that he wasn't well enough to make lunch, who replied that he understood and hoped John felt better soon. Did Andrew really understand, or was he just playing along? At this point, John didn't know, but he did know he wouldn't figure it out until they met up again in person. Ugh. He was really not looking forward to that. He needed to calm down and recalibrate before that happened. As mad as he was, he still didn't want to hurt Andrew in his fury. Later that morning, he texted Andrew to tell him he was being sent off on another work trip for the weekend. This was the first time he had blatantly lied to Andrew, but he didn't know what else to do to buy himself some time to calm down. He didn't realize how much time they'd been spending together until he needed to make some space to think. The day was bright and beautiful with clear blue skies, few clouds, and a beaming sun. It made his loft too happy a place to match his mood, so he threw a bunch of stuff in a duffle and headed out to the Jacks. It wasn't until he approached the sign that he finally decided he wasn't going to stay in the campground itself. He passed it and took the old dirt driveway instead, pulling up to the Quonset hut garage so he could take the Jeep up to the old cabin. Only after he pulled up to it did he remember that his grandparents would probably still be there, and the Jeep was back by the office. Ugh. He turned around and drove back to the main Jacks entrance and then drove up to a small dirt path just past the office. He cautiously drove his little car over the rutted trail and around the corner where he found the Jeep right where he had expected it to be. He thew his stuff in the back, and closed the top of his BMW before he confirmed what he had feared last night: he had dislodged the side window of his car from the track inside the door when he slammed it shut. Either hundreds of dollars or several hours of work to fix�-once his hands healed enough to even do it. Ugh. He found an old sheet of plastic and some duct tape on the back porch of the office and proceeded to tape around the opening so any rain wouldn't get in. Between his mangled hands and the secondhand supplies, it looked properly ghetto by the time he was done, but it should do the job. Hopefully. Ugh. Disgusted with himself, he climbed aboard the Jeep, fished the key out from the ashtray, and drove it out and onto the highway. He retraced his earlier route to the garage and then just plowed into the undergrowth, following the path upwards. There was something about this old thing, he thought as he drove, that settled him down. It was a machine of utility that gave no promise or hint of being anything else. There was no ambiguity about it at all, unless you counted fourth gear. It was rough, worn, scarred, and ugly, but it did its job reliably and without complaint. It did so better than John himself was doing lately, he noted wryly. He eventually made it to the copse of trees to park, grabbed his duffle, and made his way through the grass to the old shack. He opened the heavy old door and tossed his duffle on top of the bed before making his way to both windows to open them up and get a breeze going to freshen the air inside. Working on the windows, he realized he might have made a mistake choosing this place to crash when his hands were barely functional. But his pride prevented him from changing his mind. He'd figure things out. On the plus side, he and Andrew had stockpiled plenty of firewood, restocked the food cabinet, and cut the grass the last time they were here, so there wasn't too much work to do to stay. He could probably still use a can opener and work his fly, and those were the two most important things he could think of at the moment. On second thought, he realized one thing that might be tougher to overcome: starting a fire with bandaged fingers. Well, when the time comes, he'd just have to figure that out too. But the day was still young and warm, so he put that off until later. He was still tired from yesterday, so he fished around inside the linen cupboard until he found a wad of mesh shoved into a back corner and brought it out to the front porch along with a light blanket. The sun was just starting to be in the perfect position as he hung the hammock on two hooks at the front of the porch, laid the blanket on top, and climbed in. He tried to let himself be distracted by the mundane to help push more intense things out of his mind as he swung gently in the open air with the cool breeze and warm rays combining for perfect front porch sitting weather. The soft wind died down before too long, and John found himself a little too hot, so he roused himself enough to remove his shirt and trousers. He lay back again, luxuriating in the feel of the sun's caresses on his skin. In typical fashion, his cock began to grow inside his boxers, but after a few fumbled tries, he realized there was no relief to be had with his hands today. He was disappointed, but there was no help for it: puffy mittens of tape and bandages just wouldn't cut it to jack off. Instead, he just closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch of nature on his body. Across the glade, Jeb saw the young man doze off in his hammock. He had just decided on a whim to check out the cabin and see if he might snag a can or two of food from the cupboard, but now that someone was there, he had second thoughts. He had been by many times and knew the place was left unlocked, so he assumed whomever owned it wouldn't begrudge him a can or two. He had initially thought of moving in. It fit him well: solid, humble, and far removed from people at large, but he had found a better place to hole up, so he didn't usually bother with this place. He kept pretty much to himself, preferring to buy his food than steal it, but his supplies were running low, so he'd remembered this cabin and here he was. The guy on the porch was obviously city folk from his clothes, so Jeb knew he could just come back later, but he paused. There was something familiar about him that he just couldn't place. Oh well, he eventually decided. It was probably nothing. He quietly made his way toward the track, but as soon as he saw the rusty red Jeep parked on it, his memory was jogged. That was one of those two boys at that pond that he had seen when that little fat ass Colton was following him around and making his life miserable. He spat at the memory. He suspected that Colton was right about them being queer, but he would never give Colt the satisfaction of being right if he could help it, punk kid that he was. Now Jeb wasn't so sure he wanted to leave. Only a few minutes later, he made up his mind and worked his way back to the edge of the clearing. The guy on the hammock had woken up from his nap and was thrashing around weirdly. It took a bit to figure out he had gotten too hot and was trying to take off some clothes, but it seemed unnecessarily harder than it should have been. The man had finally removed his pants, and when he saw him start struggle with his shirt, Jeb finally noticed his hands were all wadded up with bandages. He almost laughed at the sight then. Like a turtle on his back, every move seemed futile, though eventually he managed to lose his shirt and dump it on the floor with his trousers. Captivated, Jeb watched as he began to take off his boxer shorts next. It wasn't as chaotic this time, and then Jeb realized he wasn't trying to doff the shorts at all. He was trying to jack that huge boner inside them. With huge gauze mittens. Jeb's chuckles faded as he felt bad for the guy. To have a beautiful cock like that and not be able to do anything with it would be torture. Then an idea hatched in his head. He walked out into the glade and made his way toward the little cabin and the cinnamon bear in his hammock. Not wanting to startle him, Jeb called out before he got too close. "Howdy there! Mind if'n I ask a favor?" John's eyes snapped open and all trace of relaxation vanished instantly. "What's that?" he asked suspiciously. Jeb raised both hands placatingly. "Sorry to bother you," he said. "I was just wonderin' if I might could earn some vittles." "What brings you up here?" John asked. "It's a bit far from the road, isn't it?" Jeb was having second thoughts about his grand idea now... "Yessir," he agreed. "I like hikin' and wand'rin' around." "Hiking..." John repeated skeptically. "Yeah," Jeb said. John just looked at him. Jeb shuffled his feet uncomfortably under the weight of the stare. "You could jus' say no," he finally said. "I'm not going to say no," John replied. He knew the guy was lying to his face and he wanted to say how much he hated liars, but he couldn't bear that level of hypocrisy in himself just now. "I just want to know what you're doing on my property that's all." "Yer property?" Jeb repeated. "Yeah, this is my family's land and has been for more than a hundred years." "Sorry," Jeb mumbled. "Didn't see no signs." "We don't post signs," John acceded. "I just don't usually run into people I don't know. You're free to pass through." Jeb was visibly relieved. This had turned out far differently from how he had wanted it to go. "Thank ya, sir," he drawled. "You're welcome," John said. "Feel free to grab a few cans of whatever you want." "Yer most kind," Jeb answered. "But I hate to just take something when I can earn it." "Well, my boyfriend and I already got this place pretty much taken care of..." John began. Boyfriend, huh? Jeb thought. Perfect! "The cabin is in fine shape," Jeb agreed. "But I saw something else that needed help." "Oh yeah? What's that?" "I saw you fumblin' with yer hands," Jeb said carefully. "Mine work fine, and I thought I might could do things fer ya." "What kind of things?" John asked suspiciously. "I dunno," Jeb said. "I c'n cook dinner, make a fahr, or mebee�" Without breaking eye contact with John, he boldly reached out and took a firm hold of John's tool. ********* Thanks for reading my tale! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Also, it would be awesome if you could throw a few bucks at Nifty to help them keep this site up for our fun stories! Thanks again for reading, and I hope you have great day! -DurtyRiter DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

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Date: Fri, 22 Sep 2023 23:14:09 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 45 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 45 "I thought you said nobody would be up here in these woods," Colton complained to his older companion. "They usually ain't," grunted Jeb, rubbing the silver whiskers on his well-weathered chin. "Never seen anyone before." "You sure we ain't lost?" Colton persisted. "Yeah, I'm sure," replied Jeb. "So just nip it already." Colton subsided, but he still wasn't happy. He was out of his element outdoors as the bright sunburn on his pale rounded face could attest. He didn't mind skirting certain stupid laws, but he definitely didn't want to be caught doing it. It made him nervous, and that meant he talked too much and tried to deflect. "Maybe they'll leave quick," Colton suggested. "Mebbee, but that one is grabbin' somethin' outta his Jeep, so prolly not." Colton sighed. "What should we do?" "Hold on a sec." Jeb replied brusquely to his yammering 20-something-year-old compatriot. A few moments later, he knew they weren't leaving right away. "They just pulled out blankets, so they ain't goin' nowhere for a bit." "Aw, man." Colton fretted. "Should we head back down?" "Dunno yet," Jeb replied impatiently. "Let's see what they might be plannin'" The two of them watched John spread out the blankets on the rock while Andrew stripped. "You gotta be kiddin' me," groaned Colton, rolling his eyes. "Shut up," sniped Jeb. "You sound like my mule." Colton harrumphed and crossed his arms in front of his round chest in silent protest. They watched as John shed his clothes right after Andrew. "Oh, hell no." Colton said emphatically. "I ain't watchin' no fuckin' queers do what they do. It just ain't right." "Didja ever think that maybe they was just skinny dippin' in that little pool down there? No! You always gotta jump to yer conclusions before you know anything." "I know enough," grumbled Colton. "See? That one laid down on those blankets and the other faggot is getting ready to lie on top of him." It looked that way to Jeb for a moment too, but he soon saw the massage begin. "Mebbee and mebbe not," Jeb insisted. "What difference does it make to you what a couple queers do?" "No one, I guess, but it's all wrong," Colton replied. "And I don't gotta watch." "Nobody's forcin' you." Despite his protestations, Colton was still a tiny bit curious and continued to watch. Besides, Jeb was watching too. "There, you see?" gloated Jeb. "It's just a massage." "What kinda dude gets a massage?" "The kind with neck and back pains, you idiot." "You won't catch me gettin' one of those." "You think I care?" "I'm just sayin'." "Well, don't." Colton looked at Jeb. "You know what? You're an asshole." "Takes one to know one, Colt, so say what you like." "How I ever let you talk me into this�" "Me?" Jeb bridled. "Talk YOU into it?!? Yer the one who insisted on crashin' my party where you ain't welcome. I'm quite fine on my own, thank you. I'm half a mind to leave you here and let ya find yer own way home. Prolly get lost and maybe mauled by a bear on the first night. Serve you right! Damn whimpering puppy." "There's bears? You didn't say nuthin' about bears before." "Of course there's bears. Wherever there's game, there's bears." "Well how was I supposed to know?" "Oh god," breathed Jeb. "Are you really this stupid?" "Fuck off!" "Gladly," Jeb said, gathering his gear that he had laid down. "Good luck�you'll need it." "Aw, come on, Jeb." Jeb just gave him a look. "Awright, I'll be good." Colton said earnestly. "Promise." "Yeah, right," sighed Jeb. "But if you keep sniveling, I'm gonna wash my hands of you and let you fend for yourself." "Yessir," mumbled Colton. "I just wish them faggots weren't here." "Well, we know there ain't no game around with them here, that's fer sure." Jeb observed. "Whatever they are doing," he added pointedly. Colton spared another glance. "Now the dude's on his back. I'm telling ya, Jeb� Never mind." "Don't be a hater, Colt." "I just don't like seeing it is all." "Yer still not seeing anything. Yer jumpin' to conclusions is all. Yer biased." "The skinny kid's got a big ol' boner, Jeb. It can't get any clearer than that." "Goes to show what YOU know," Jeb sneered. "Embarrassing as hell, but any good massage'll do that. Or put you to sleep. One or th' other every time. Sometimes both." "Look who's the sudden expert." "I ain't an expert, but I've had a few massages in my day. I also read. You should try it sometime." "I can read!" "O' course you can." "I know you don't believe me, but I can." "I don't care, Colt. Prolly never will." "Whatever." "Irregardless, you may be right with them. Who knows? I'm just sayin' you gotta learn to stop jumpin' to conclusions. If I did that, I'd never catch my prey. Fact, I'd prolly be long dead by now." Colton managed not to say he wished that was true. They turned their attention back to the guys below them in the vale, and it wasn't long before they watched them move into the pool and out of sight. "So that's that then. They ain't goin' nowhere." "I spose so. We might as well head out." "Good," declared Colton. "I feel like I've been tainted just by being this close to them fudge-packers." "They aren't contagious, pea-brain." "I know that, I just don't want to breathe the same air as them." `If you only knew,' thought Jeb. `You've been breathing "homo air" for three days now...' Oblivious to the drama unfolding up the hill, Andrew and John were just enjoying being in each other's company while the hot water churned around them. "I do love hot tubs," Andrew confessed after a long while. "Pools are cool too, but I'd be fine without those. These, on the other hand, are practically a need." "They are, are they?" John chuckled. "Then I'm glad I could provide it for you." "Me too," agreed Andrew with a laugh. "And thanks again for the wonderful massage." "I'm glad you liked it. Whenever you'd like another, just let me know." "Just so you know, that's a dangerous offer." "'Kay, but it may be rescinded if you abuse it too much." "Then I will try to control myself." "Always a good plan," John agreed. They spent another thirty minutes chitchatting as they let the warmth soothe their bodies before John announced it was time to head back. "Already?" Andrew asked mournfully. "But I like it here." "Me too, bud, but there's only so much daylight left." "I know," Andrew sighed. "I just don't want the day to end." "I hear you," John replied as he led the way out. John turned off the spa system and they walked over to the rock slab to grab towels and dry off. They were soon dry, clothed, and banging down the trail once again. Like new friends, Andrew recognized several particular trees and bushes along the way as they drove. This place was starting to feel more like home with every visit, and he liked it. He turned his head to tell John, but was immediately distracted when he saw how the speckled and shifting golden light played on the handsome specimen sitting next to him. At this time of day, it really brought out yellow and orange highlights as the curly mop on his head got blown about in the wind. Same with the hair on his arms and legs. It almost looked like he was on fire. And now something was burning inside Andrew as well. How could this be? They weren't even to their fourth week anniversary of being official yet, but it was as if he kept seeing John for the very first time. He was still blown away by this man. It was weird. It was maybe even ridiculous, but Andrew wouldn't have it any other way. And when you threw in the confidence, the stability, and the understanding, he really made a strong case for being the complete package. That wasn't even addressing the new discoveries. John didn't just work hard; he was smart with his investments in both time and money. He was considerate almost to a fault even as he challenged Andrew to understand himself and grow. John had a natural gravitas about him that drew people to him and commanded their respect. Everyone wanted to please him. Andrew was pleased, honored, and humbled to be drawn into his orbit. And being drawn into his arms was indescribably fantastic. Those arms were currently manhandling the steering wheel and shifter of this old red bucket of bolts in its plunge down the mountainside. Against all odds, Andrew remained relaxed and at ease despite the crashing ride. He had nothing but confidence in his driver's ability. And this was hardly the first time taking this trip with him, which reminded him of what he had been going to say. "You know," Andrew said. "This place is starting to feel like home." John looked at him for a brief moment with a grin. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah," he confirmed. "Being here with you settles just right in my soul." "Aw," said John. "I'm honored. And I'm glad you like it here too. This place is wonderful, but it's not everyone's cup of tea for sure." "I like it better than tea." "Noted!" laughed John. "I mean it," Andrew insisted. "I really don't want to go back this time. I'd rather sell my place and just live here." "The commute is a bit long from here though," John reminded him. "I know. But that's only because of where I work. I could get a new job." "True," John replied. "Does this mean you are thinking about what Mr. Fletcher�I mean Bill�had to say at lunch yesterday?" "Yeah. A lot, actually." "So what are you thinking?" "I'm thinking that I need a plan," laughed Andrew. "But that's way easier to say than to do." "That it is," John agreed. "What might be your first step?" "Well I want to just quit my job, but that's really stupid. I guess the first step is to find a building and see how much investment money I need." "You think it's just about the rent?" John asked. "What about the business itself? Do you know what you want it to be? What you'll sell, who your market is, and how you are going to get sales going?" "This may surprise you, but I do have a pretty good idea of all that. Especially the `what' part. I can picture it in my head when I close my eyes." "Then you're farther along than I thought," replied John. Andrew was inordinately pleased that he had surprised John even a little bit. He always seemed to have Andrew's number, and it felt good to remember that he was capable on his own even without John. "So have you thought of where you want it to be?" John asked. "Not so much specifically," Andrew admitted. "But I've pictured it so often I will know it when I see it." "From the inside looking out, then?" "Yeah," replied Andrew. "The reason I ask is that there is an old farm with a greenhouse on the way back we could check out if you like." "Really? How did I not see that?" "It's been let go for a while now and gotten very overgrown. You wouldn't even know it was there now unless you were looking for it." "Then how do you know about it?" "It used to be run by friends of the family back in the day, but the wife died and the guy just couldn't bear to carry on without her, so he took the kids and moved back to town. They may even still own it." "That's a sad story." "Yeah, it is. They are good people too." "Where is it?" "Just down the road." "That should be doable then. I've always envisioned it on a busy road that isn't super busy, if that makes sense." "Almost," John answered with a twinkle in his eye. "I guess we'll just have to check it out." "I'd like that." A short time later, they were pulling off the highway onto a seemingly random patch of pavement in front of a large mass of greenery. It wasn't until they got out of the car that Andrew could see a building hidden inside the foliage. It was low and wide with a small porch in the center leading to the front door. All the windows were boarded up, but there were two large windows to each side of the portico if the plywood was any indication. John confirmed that impression and led the way around to one side of the building. As promised, there was a large glass greenhouse tucked back there. Andrew was surprised that there didn't seem to be many broken panes of glass. Most of these kinds of places looked absolutely thrashed pretty quickly after the business folds, but this one seemed to have done fairly well. "How long did you say this has been empty?" Andrew asked. "I'm not sure, but maybe about fifteen years," John replied. "Oof, that makes me sound old!" "No, it doesn't!" protested Andrew. "It's in really good shape for being abandoned that long." "I was just thinking the same thing. I wonder if the back door is locked." John walked up to the back of the main building and tried the handle, but it was definitely locked. "Oh well, but maybe we can check out the greenhouse at least." They finally found a door to the greenhouse, but it was locked too, so they continued around it. The second door they located wasn't quite closed all the way, and John was able to yank it open, albeit with a horrendously loud screech of protest. Andrew entered first, and saw just what he expected: long rows of tables with deteriorated plastic seedling trays and plastic pots. The tables were aluminum, so there was no rust to be found except on some of the hand tools that were laying around. Lots of plastic tubing indicated it was set up with an irrigation system as well. There was lots of dirt everywhere, of course, and a thick layer of dust on everything else. Andrew barely registered the mess. He saw a glass palace begging for new plants. It was all he could do to not just roll up his sleeves and start clearing the tables on the spot. "You like this, don't you?" John asked with a smile. "Yeah, why?" "I just watched your eyes light up and your brain trip into dreamland." "Nu-unh." "Deny it all you want, but I know what that look is now. You instantly starting thinking and planning. I know you did," he said, tapping the side of his temple knowingly with a grin. "Fine!" Andrew confessed. "I do love it!" "I thought so." They continued to walk through the building with Andrew getting more and more excited as he went. "They did everything right!" he breathed. "Just how I would have set it up!" "Okay, Johnny Appleseed, the light's fading fast, so we need to head out." "Yeah..." replied Andrew as he continued away from the door. "I mean it! We have to wade out through all that shrubbery, remember?" "Okay," relented Andrew wistfully. They made their way out of the greenhouse and back to the main building where they discovered the boards over one small window on the far back side had fallen off. They peeked in, but it was very dark. Andrew wiped off some of the dirt from the glass and turned on the light of his cell phone. It didn't help a whole lot, but he could see it was mostly just one big open room with a counter right in front of the front door. "It's just how I imagined it," breathed Andrew. "Is it?" "Almost exactly." "In that case, I will give them a call and see if we can lease it or set up a rent-to-own it arrangement or something." "Really?" asked Andrew. "You don't think I might be jumping the gun?" "It sounds like you have it all mapped out to me and I believe in you. We can work out the actual business plan together if you'd like." "I'd love that! And then we can see about getting a business loan and get things moving!" "Who said anything about a business loan?" John asked. "I've got you covered. We will hash out some numbers and make sure, but I think I can do it if the Bradshaws are good about the rent or lease or whatever." "Wait, what?" Andrew sputtered. "You'd do that for me?" "Hell yes!" exclaimed John. "You are worth everything, and your happiness is worth everything to me. Of course I have your back on making your dreams come true! I don't think I'm risking much, to be honest, but even if so, I would risk everything for you!" ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :) Also, I have had trouble posting consistently lately, so if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

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Date: Sun, 10 Mar 2024 00:54:59 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man With the Jeep, Chapter 50 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 50 John looked at the text one more time before he put his phone down. Andrew wanted to talk. No more information than that, but it was probably significant in its lack of details. Something was clearly troubling him that he didn't want to address in a string of text messages. What could it be this time? He sighed. That boy was way too high strung for his own good. John was pleased that he had gotten Andrew to loosen up a little bit lately, but it was evident that he had definite habits holding him back. Of course, John had realized this going in and was far from the end of his patience. He had already mentally prepared himself for a long progression. He had just forgotten that progress is seldom steady: it nearly always comes in fits and spurts, dearth and deluge. He had noticed Andrew hadn't sent more than a good night text since they parted ways yesterday. John had chosen to believe Andrew was letting him attend to his affairs and get some work done. He was, after all, considerate to a fault. But now he had second thoughts. Andrew had proven to have a chronic case of cold feet when it came to relationships, and John was trying very hard to give him the benefit of the doubt that this wasn't yet another retreat on Andrew's part. Well, there was nothing to be gained by waiting in suspicion and conjecture. He picked up his phone again and texted Andrew: `I'd love that! Would you like to meet up now or in the morning? It's a little late, but I don't mind staying up if you prefer.' `Tomorrow would be fine' came the reply. `Sounds good' he messaged back. `We could meet for breakfast at my place at say 9?' `I forgot you had a home' Andrew sent along with a winking face emoji with its tongue sticking out. `I forgot you haven't been here yet! Did I already give you my address?' `No such luck' John sent the entirety of his contact info straight to Andrew's phone. `There you go: you should have everything now' `You forgot the passwords' Passwords? Passwords for what? John decided to gloss over that part, but then gave him the code for the front gate. `The gate code is 1127' There was a pause this time before `Got it! See you in the morning' came through. `Looking forward to it, sexy!' John turned off the light and crawled into bed, but sleep proved more elusive than usual. Despite his determination, suspicion and conjecture decided to have a war inside his head after all. It felt like it would never end, but he did eventually drift off to sleep. Andrew pulled up to what seemed to be the right address, but it was an old nondescript brick building that could be anything from a warehouse to a factory. At street level, several openings had been bricked in at different times, judging from the multiple shades of brick in roughly window- and door-shaped arched patches down the entire length. Starting about ten feet up from ground level, there were huge window openings filled with small clear glass panes sprinkled randomly with translucent white ones. Weathered from years of battles with the elements, the edifice didn't even have a legible building number that he could find. The only reason he'd found it was the small office building on one side had a higher number than the address John sent and the building on the other side was lower. He scanned the fa�ade skeptically in search of a front door, but the only portal was an empty archway with an old iron gate across it. As he approached it, Andrew noticed a small metal keypad attached to the wall. A sticker above that confirmed this was the correct address. He typed in 1127 and after nothing happened for a moment, he mashed the pound button as well. With a generic beep, the mechanism released the gate latch with a loud clang, and Andrew pushed it open and walked in. As he turned to close it behind him, he noticed a sad little strip of tape desperately holding a plain white piece of paper to the gate with a faded hand-scrawled message: "Don't forget to close the gate all the way!" He did so and trudged inward. Looking ahead, he could see it led to an interior courtyard with arched openings all the way around. It wasn't until he spied John's old BMW sitting in one of the openings that he was properly convinced this was the right place. Looking up from within the narrow courtyard made the 50-foot structure seem even taller than it did from the street. Just like the exterior, the inside walls had a lot of glass at the higher levels. He assumed the "Unit 403" John lived in would be found on the fourth floor, so he looked around until he found an old wooden stairway under another arched alcove that wrapped itself around an ancient industrial iron elevator. It looked sketchy enough that he wasn't sure he'd take it even if he wasn't predisposed to taking the stairs everywhere he went. Andrew found the rough stairs well-worn in the middle through decades and decades of hard use. He trod carefully all the way up to the fourth floor, which proved to be the very top of the stairs. Thankfully, there were small industrial-looking plaques on the wall at this level indicating which direction to go. Following the signs, he turned left and walked down the narrow and rather dingy hallway. By all indications, the walls were literally just plywood, and the floors were dirty unfinished wooden planks with visible gaps between them that promised to swallow high heels and give splinters to any who chose to go barefoot. Most of the ceiling was lost in shadow, but Andrew could make out bare rafters high above with an occasional single-bulb barn-style lamp hanging down by long cords to grudgingly illuminate the way. There were very few doors to break the monotony. The old place carried an air of forgotten history and mystery that was somehow sadly romantic rather than scary. Hours of urban exploration videos he'd watched on YouTube played through his mind as he walked through the dusty and quiet passageway. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed the nondescript door with the little "403"-stamped metal plate next to it. Now that he was here, the purpose of his visit abruptly came to mind and the nostalgic building got bumped to the back burner of his awareness. He paused to collect his thoughts, took a deep breath, and looked at his watch. 9:02. Damn. Two minutes late for his appointment with Mr. Punctual. He found no trace of a doorbell, so he rapped smartly on the door. The door was so solid it hurt his knuckles and he wasn't at all sure it could be heard from the other side, but it opened almost instantly, revealing John in a black apron that made Andrew laugh despite himself when he read it: THIS IS A MANLY APRON FOR A MANLY MAN DOING MANLY THINGS WITH MANLY FOOD "You like it?" John asked with a grin as he leaned forward to give Andrew a welcoming kiss. "It's funny," Andrew answered. "I didn't pick it myself, but I like it," John confided conspiratorially. "Come on in and make yourself at home! I need to get back to the kitchen before the eggs burn." Andrew seriously doubted there was any danger of that, but he used the moment to check out John's bachelor pad. It was brilliantly bright thanks to all the glass, though he couldn't tell how much of that was just because he'd just come out of that gloomy hallway. This was clearly an old-school loft. Nearly the entire space was gloriously rough-hewn. Raw brick, exposed joints, and unfinished wood were everywhere, offering no apology for its composition or its past. That was not to say that it was neglected, though. Every bit of metal, for example, was sealed from the elements with glossy black paint. There were no broken panes of glass to be found and the caulking was in good shape throughout. The high and exposed ceiling was likewise devoid of cobwebs, and the skylights were clear and clean. The rafters contained no bird's nests, though discoloring in places testified that had not always been the case. The flooring-�if it could be called that-�was identical to the hall outside, with wide planks of dense wood. Now bathed in light, Andrew could see the gaps between them were much tighter than they appeared before and probably just due to some age-related shrinkage rather than slap-dash construction. Unlike the public hallways, John kept his floors swept clean, but there were several spots where there had obviously been heavy machinery for extended periods of time. The result was a fascinating, if uneven, floor throughout the apartment. Perhaps to compensate for the undulating floor, all the furniture was very low and of simple design. 100% IKEA, if he had to guess, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. When you live by yourself and you take care of your stuff as John obviously did, that was a great way to be frugal and still have some style. The layout was instantly understood with the seating area and a modest TV on one end, and the open kitchen on the other. There were a few bar stools under the outside edge of the kitchen island and a simple table with dining chairs between that and the vaguely U-shaped sectional couch. Just inside the front door to one side was an interesting wall-mounted cabinet. As the office chair parked in front of it hinted, it was a large peninsula-style desk that folded up against the wall when not in use. Tucked between the kitchen and the exterior wall of windows was a simple black metal staircase going up to an open loft area where Andrew could just barely see the low bed with its fluffy blue comforter. It suited John amazingly well: Rough around the edges, but not to the extent of being completely unruly, mixed with a definite sense of style. Imminently welcoming and honest, yet frugal. John was busily serving up the food. "Doctored-up" scrambled eggs, English muffins, turkey bacon, and hash browns all found a place on the plates. Beside them were small bowls of grapes with apple slices and a glass of orange juice. "Wow," whistled Andrew. "That's a solid spread!" "Why thank you! Now let's eat!" They dove in and soon every last bit was eaten. "Oh my gosh," exclaimed Andrew. "I think that will have to be brunch, because I don't dare eat lunch after all that!" "It's the start of the day and you need fuel," John asserted. "Let the rest of the day fall where it will." "Good philosophy." "It works for me, anyway." "I have to agree," Andrew said with a laugh. "Can I use the restroom real quick?" "Of course," John shrugged, indicating the open space between the fridge and the stairs. "It's right through there." "Thanks." Andrew found the bathroom behind the kitchen wall. It eschewed the old factory look for a simple and clean design that reminded Andrew of the incredible outhouse more than anything else, but it was not nearly as extravagant. Just simple cabinetry, a bare concrete floor (which he later learned was heated), clean white walls, and mild gray tiling in the modestly sized shower. He noticed John's closet was more or less under the stairs and situated next to the entrance to the bathroom. Curiously, there were no doors in the entire apartment, save for the entrance into the loft from the hall. Andrew was grateful for the little pony wall between the toilet and the sink that provided (only a little) privacy. Bachelor pad indeed! When he came back out, John had already cleared the dishes and counters. "So, your text said you wanted to talk?" he asked cautiously as he led Andrew over to the couch. "Yeah," Andrew said, screwing up his courage to be direct. "After you left my place Thursday without spending the night, I had to take matters into my own hands, so to speak, and I came across something interesting." "Yeah?" asked John, getting a glimmer of where this might be going. "What was it?" "I was roaming around for something to jack off to, when I came across a video that caught my eye, and then-�boom!-�there you were!" Andrew cringed on the inside to be speaking so bluntly about things he normally kept very much to himself, but he knew escaping his comfort zone was necessary if he wanted answers. "Ah," said John. He didn't seem embarrassed or self-conscious. He didn't seem upset that he was found out. He seemed merely...resigned? Accepting? Maybe understanding even? "You found a flick I did?" "Yes. Were you going to tell me about that?" "Yes, I was. I don't want to keep any secrets from you." John asserted. "But honestly, I didn't know how to tell you about that." "How about `you should probably know I do porn'? John laughed. Andrew tried not to bridle at that unexpected reaction. "First off, I don't do that anymore. I didn't do many of them and I never had big aspirations of naked stardom or anything. It was just happenstance that the opportunity came along, and I thought `why not?' It was good money for a short time doing something I enjoyed. That was my original thinking anyway. I got over it pretty quickly. I don't regret it, but I don't miss it, either." He paused to try to gauge Andrew's reaction. "Is that what you wanted to know?" "How recently did you stop?" "Maybe four years ago I think." "You don't remember?" "Not specifically. I could do the math and find out exactly if you want." He offered. "In case you missed it, I try to only remember the good times as life goes on. That was just...meh, so I don't dwell on it too much. But I do have some stories if you want to hear them," he said with a wink. "I don't know," Andrew said. John gave him a look, and Andrew remembered that John never liked that answer. "Let me rephrase that: maybe later, but not right now." "Can you forgive me for doing porn before I met you?" When John put it like that, Andrew realized John thought he was being unreasonable. Andrew struggled with finding the right words. "I guess I'm just a bit jealous when I see you with others�-especially when they look anything like me," he finally admitted sheepishly. "I got you," John said seriously. "Just try to remember that was long before I met you. It feels like an entire lifetime ago." "I will," Andrew promised. "My head already knows that." John nodded. "Why didn't you tell me though?" John paused for a good minute before replying. "Honestly?" he finally asked. "Always yes." Andrew replied firmly. "You never have to ask me that." "Okay," John finally said. "You do recognize you are a bit straightlaced and conservative for a gay guy, right?" "Yeah," Andrew admitted. Luckily it came out as if he was owning that about himself rather than yet another embarrassing revelation. "I just didn't want to scare you off. I know I've lived a lot more on the edge than you have and not all of it is pretty. Can you honestly tell me you would have even gone to lunch with me if I had told you at the beginning that I had done porn?" It was Andrew's turn to be introspective. "I guess that would have made it harder." "God, you're so punny without even trying," John laughed. Andrew blushed. "Think of it from my perspective. Whenever I tell people I did porn, it takes over the conversation. They want to know what my porn name was, what kind of videos I did, who I filmed with, how fun it was, how much I got paid, what it was like to have sex in front of a camera, blah, blah, blah. They stop trying to get to know me at that point and only care about my alter ego. Which, like I said, was a brief blip in my life, digitally sealed in a moment of time forever and ever amen." Andrew had to admit he could see how that could happen. "When I asked you to lunch, it was because I wanted to get to know you and I wanted you to get to know me. I'm over the shallow life and I want to share it meaningfully with someone who wants the same thing. Does that make sense?" "Yeah." "Don't think I don't notice how much time I spend talking compared to you. I listen to everything you say, and I am learning who you are. That's the `you' I've fallen for. The reason I don't mind doing a lot of talking when I'm with you is because I want you to realize who I am too and that I'm safe to talk to. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me that you know you can let your guard down a little bit and I won't use it against you. I'm not looking to devour you." He paused with a dirty smile. "Okay, maybe I'm not opposed to devouring your sexy body," he amended, "But the absolute last thing I want to do is hurt you." Andrew could feel himself tearing up, but he fought to stay focused. He didn't want to melt in front of John again. Yet, at least. "Thank you," Andrew said quietly. "I'm not used to that." "I can tell," John replied. "And it makes me mad at whomever did that to you to make you so...trepidatious." "Wow, there's a ten-dollar word!" "I know, right? But anyway, I'm sorry I held the porn thing back from you." "Already forgiven," Andrew assured him. "I know I'm a basket case sometimes and you were probably right to hold off. At least for a little while." "Thank you." "But are there other things you aren't telling me?" John steeled himself for fallout. "Yes." "Like what?" "Are the nutshell versions okay, or do you want to hear all the sordid details at once?" "An overview would be fine. I may like my share of mystery, but surprises from out of the blue can really throw me." "You?" John exclaimed in mock surprise. "Oh, shut up," Andrew said, rolling his eyes. "Too late: I've been instructed to spill my guts all over the floor here and now." "Then get on with it, drama queen." John just grinned at him for a moment before he began. "I grew up in a loud and active home with an unconventional view of sex that had no regard for secrecy or prudism. I've known about sex for as long as I can remember, which is exactly what my parents intended. We were never forced, but we were free to explore, ask questions, and try things whenever we wanted, so for better or worse, that's how I was raised. You still with me so far?" Andrew nodded, logging that revelation away for future contemplation. "I went to public schools all the way from preschool through high school, sometimes raising a ruckus and sometimes not, like any mostly good but hyperactive kid. I suppose I was something of a leader most of the time, though I didn't try to be. I chalk that up to never feeling that I had to prove myself to anyone. That's how I learned that confidence�-or at least the appearance of it�-commands respect, and I took that to heart. "I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life after I graduated, so I joined the Marines. I was a good enough jarhead to get into Force RECON. Do you know what that is?" Andrew shook his head. "I've heard of the Rangers and the Navy Seals, but not that." "Sounds about right," John acknowledged. "Force RECON has more to do with gathering intelligence in unfriendly places and stuff like that. We did other things too, but that was our primary aim. Anyway, I did that for a while until one op in particular went sideways." As John spoke, Andrew watched his entire demeanor change into that stoic and stiff John he'd encountered for the first time not too long ago. "After that, things weren't the same. The adventure was gone, the challenge didn't matter, and for the life of me, I couldn't get the point of it all. I slipped into drinking too much and then I couldn't stop. Once I got to that point, it wasn't long before they kicked me out, and then it got really bad. I was absolutely furious with the world and took it out on people who did nothing to deserve it. I did some really awful things that of course made me feel horrible about who I'd become. Those memories haunt me still. "You remember the sex parties at the barn I was telling you about?" Andrew nodded. "Those started not long after I got back. I probably made it sound like it was all my idea to fix up the barn and do all the weddings and stuff, but my mom was the one really running things at the time. I was there and had some input, but I was so wrapped up in myself that I doubt I was even helpful. It wasn't until those parties that I found some outlet. All kinds of guys�-and some that may or may not have been for all I know, for that matter-�would come to these things, and there were specific areas set up for those with different kinks and stuff. I was hardly a stranger to sex, but suddenly the whole BDSM thing clicked for me. It filled a need. I hadn't understood the dom/sub thing until that point, but now I was all in. My personal life was out of control, so naturally I was the dommest dom there. Leather was my new uniform and whips and chains were the tools of my trade. That confidence thing I picked up in high school came to the fore again and I got off on guys seeking my power over them. It was a rush that I hadn't felt since the Marines, and I ate it up. It was what I was living for. It had gotten to the point that I didn't respond to anything besides `Master' or `Sir'�and that's with a capital `S' and a dip of the head, of course. But eventually it became larger than me and even though I still enjoyed it, I started feeling lost even in the midst of wielding all this control. This was when I did the porn, too, hoping it would trigger something. Anything. But it didn't." "By this time, I had a hard time remembering who I even was. I only thought about the moment. I knew I had no future to live for, so why even bother? I desperately wanted it to end. On one hand, that was absolutely terrifying, while on the other, I just couldn't bring myself to care at all." At this point, John was like a ghost of himself. All emotion had left him, and there was just emptiness in his eyes. Andrew felt like he needed to do something or say something to fill that void, but he had no idea what, so he continued to sit quietly while John struggled through. "All that was catching up with me. The stuff I saw in the field, my inability to stop drinking, my overwhelming anger and guilt, and now this unassailable depression and emptiness. It was just too much. I thought about death all the time. It was like I craved it, and the only reason I didn't kill myself was that I couldn't make up my mind how I wanted to do it." John paused for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing. "Fortunately for me, that was when my family stepped in and did an intervention. I don't think they even knew how far gone I was. Oh, they knew I came back in sad shape and wasn't getting any better, but I don't think they realized how close I was to ending it all... "I take that back: maybe they did. My memories are kind of vague at this point, to be honest. I like to think that I was still highly functional and nobody knew, but that seems unlikely, doesn't it?" John mused. "Regardless, I was so desperate that when they did the intervention, I grabbed on with both hands, knowing it would be my last hurrah if it didn't work. "And just like that, I was off for a year to a rehab place where I had to quit alcohol cold turkey, had to go to counseling and therapy sessions two or three times a day, and I had very little say in my daily agenda. "They prescribed some drugs for me too, but there was no way I was taking those. I didn't want to go into rehab just to come out with an addiction or having to take pills daily to cope for the rest of my life. I told them if their program had any validity, I wouldn't need them. They didn't like that at all and never stopped trying to push them on me, but I was able to stand firm. They even tried to put it in my food once, but I purposely gagged myself in front of the doctor and threw it all up on him. It was only then that they backed off a little bit. I had been through basic training and real battles, so I knew I could get through it just fine without. But it ended up being the hardest thing I've ever had to do. "Since then, I've just been trying to build a satisfying life and be a better me. That's what led to the bodybuilding too. I decided I was on such a role after rehab that I'd keep it going somehow, so I turned to the gym. Between you and me, I never cared about the competitions, I just wanted to look more like a bodybuilder. I hired a trainer and never let on that I didn't care. He would have gotten his money either way, but I figured he would go easy on me if I told him I wasn't in it for medals." "You're probably right," Andrew agreed. He was enormously pleased that John had become himself again by the end of his tale. He would have never guessed he had gone through so much. But apparently he had, and made it through it all to become the man he was today. Jim's words floated through his mind as he thought about how impressive John was to wade through all that and by sheer force of will come out on top by the end. Andrew could see some of John's faults now, but they didn't diminish his feelings or his resolve to be a better man to and for John. He saw now how John could have so many anecdotes and tales to tell, and it underscored even more deeply just how boring his own life was. He felt like he should have done more to be able to have more to tell about himself. "Penny for your thoughts," John interrupted. Again bracing himself to be bold, he told John. "Your story is just deeper, that's all," John assured him. "Mine may look more interesting, but it takes a lot of dips to make those highs exciting. You run under the radar. That's your way. Remember when we talked about your grandma?" "And Hitler?" Andrew added with a smile. "Yes." "Do you realize how hardcore that was? All my stories are reactions and circumstances. Yours have real meaning." "Thanks for saying that, but so do yours. I can't imagine the struggles you've had to go through." "See? Deep. Most guys are so wrapped up in themselves that they don't bother trying to imagine another person's perspective, while you can't help yourself. I never used to appreciate it, but rehab opened my eyes to things like that. I also have to say I'm pretty impressed and honored that you came to talk to me. I know that must have been hard for you to do. Not long ago, you would have just disappeared on me, am I right?" "Probably," admitted Andrew. "But like I've said before, I'm not looking for the exit anymore." "Glad to hear it," John said with a smile. "I'd hate to have to blindfold you!" "Dork!" "Does this mean we are okay? I know we just covered a lot." "It was a lot, but I'm good. I'll probably have more questions for you after I think it over a little more." "I'd be disappointed if you didn't," John replied with a smile. "Is that all of your secrets?" Andrew asked suddenly. "It's all the ugly and scary ones," John assured him. "If you want to know the rest, you're going to have to stay tuned." "I can do that." "I was hoping you'd say that," John said softly as he leaned in for a kiss. ********* If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-59

Date: Wed, 03 Jul 2024 16:16:54 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 59 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 59 The next morning came much too soon. Andrew's alarm went off twice before it registered that he needed to get out of bed and get to work. He didn't even see John's text from last night wishing him a good night's sleep. Despite his hectic start, he made it to work fine and besides finding himself sleepy during the few moments of downtime he got, he was pleased that he didn't seem to make any mistakes. Those are, after all, frowned upon in legal paperwork. By the time he made it home, he was ready for an early bedtime. Before he gave in to that urge, he looked up how much his home was worth versus how much he still owed on it, and was pleasantly surprised. The best part was knowing that because he had done his renovations early on, there was nothing that needed attention to bring it to market condition. In fact, after digging into the market a little more, he discovered that he was ahead of the curve style-wise and the colors and materials he had chosen throughout the house were trending now. Having figured that part out, now he had to address the other side of the coin: how much was it going to take to set up his new venture? He came up with a plan and budget for the business itself but found himself short of some key information. Specifically, he had no idea how much rent the new place would be or how much investment it would take to get the building itself up and running, let alone the house that he hadn't even seen. After dinner, when he climbed into bed and made his nightly call, John promised to call his friend to get some more details and try to arrange to meet him there for a proper tour. Twenty minutes later, John texted back to confirm that Thursday after work would work for Andrew. It did, so they were set until then. The next day proved to be a bit of a blur as Andrew was completely preoccupied with anticipation and excitement. Even John had a little trouble holding his attention when they met for lunch. "You're really looking forward this, aren't you?" he commented. "Yeah. I'm super nervous for sure, but I just can't help getting excited about the whole idea." "I bet!" "There's just so much I don't know though. It's kind of overwhelming. I mean, I'm trying to be patient and roll with it, but it's impossible not to try and imagine what it could be like and try to plan it all out." "You and your puzzles," John laughed. "You still need all the pieces before you can make a whole picture, you know." "Oh really?" Andrew said with a raised eyebrow. "Since when do you give me all the pieces to a mystery before you start asking me to solve it?" "Touch�," laughed John. "Well, keep trying to relax so you don't fry that brain of yours, okay?" "Sure thing, boss," Andrew teased. "Whatever you say." Thursday did not prove to be a blur at all. It seemed to drag on and on...and on...and on...forever. It was like a time warp where the world seemed to be happening in slow motion. Everything at work was clear and obvious, and he breezed through his workload in record speed. He was so quick he even ended up reorganizing the junk drawer in his desk at the end of the day just to pass the time. Five o'clock finally rolled around and he was clocked out and halfway to his car less than a minute later. He soon pulled the car into his garage and was so anxious to go that after parking, he went to sit on the front step of the porch waiting for John to show up. His phone buzzed with a text a few minutes later: `I suppose you are already sitting outside waiting for me to get there?' `Yeah' `Thought so. Now go change into jeans and a shirt you don't mind getting dirty.' `Good idea' `I know. See you soon. xoxo' `xoxo' Andrew dutifully went in and changed as John suggested, shaking his head ruefully that he had been about to traipse around that dirty old greenhouse in slacks and dress shoes. He was halfway back down the stairs when he heard John pull in the drive, so he just kept going and sailed through the front door, consciously remembering to lock it behind him. "Ready to go?" John asked facetiously with a disarming grin. "Yes," Andrew confirmed without equivocation. "Now go!" "Aye, Captain," John replied gamely. Before long, they pulled up to the rampant greenery on the side of the highway that hid the nursery. Already there was a generic old Ford pickup. As they parked, a man in blue jeans, a plaid shirt, and worn brown boots got out and raised a hand in greeting. "Hey Mr. Bradshaw!" John greeted him as he climbed out of his car. "It's good to see you again." "You too, Johnny," he said with a small smile that Andrew suspected was not his normal expression. Mr. Bradshaw dropped his hand for a shake. "How have you been?" "Can't complain," John replied. "How are the kids?" "I don't know if `kids' really suits them anymore, but they are fine. They are that golden age where they know everything so I must be an idiot." "Rough, but you know that will pass." "As I long as I don't die first," Mr. Bradshaw groused in moderately good humor. "I'm sure you won't," John assured him. "Mr. Bradshaw, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Andrew." "Boyfriend, huh?" Mr. Bradshaw said with a little surprise. This was not the same kind of surprise Andrew was used to seeing with that announcement. Rather than happy excitement tinged with relief, this one had much more feel of a skeptical reticence. John must not have came out to him before now. "I see," Mr. Bradshaw continued. "Well congratulations, I guess." With his initial reaction, Andrew was a bit surprised that Mr. Bradshaw extended his hand to him for a firm handshake of his own. "Nice to meet you, Andrew." "You too, sir." There was no change of expression, but Andrew felt he had somehow passed a test as soon as he used the honorific. "So, you want to get into husbandry, do you?" Andrew wasn't sure if the older gentleman meant to use the double entendre or not, so he held his chuckle in. He guessed the guy had a dry sense of humor and knew exactly what he was saying, but better not to risk things by replying in kind. "Yes, sir," Andrew answered. "It's been a dream of mine for a very long time." "Done anything like that before?" "No, sir. I took business courses in college and daydreamed about it maybe too much, but that's the extent of it." "Business courses, huh? Well I s'pose that's a better angle to take than just loving plants." "I do love plants, but I didn't think that would pay very well, so I figured I'd better find out how to run a company first." "Congratulations," Mr. Bradshaw said. "You've just avoided a very big rude awakening. We weren't so lucky. We adapted in time, but it wasn't fun for a while there. You really do need both to make it work. I got the business side down well enough, I guess, but once my wife died, well, I just didn't care about the plants anymore, so I packed up the kids and walked away. This place has been left to rot ever since. Have you taken a look at it already?" "Well, we did try to look through the windows, but it's awfully dark in there." "It would be," Mr. Bradshaw agreed. "I have a solution for that, though it took me two hours to find it." With that, he fished an old key out of his pocket that had an odd-looking blob attached to the ring. While he coaxed the reluctant lock open with the key, Andrew studied the blob. Eventually he decided it probably used to be a small red rubber rose, though both the form and the color had degraded significantly over time and use. Mr. Bradshaw was able to get the door open with a small kick at the baseplate before he turned to the young men with him. "Did you boys bring any lights with you? I know the power was turned off long ago." "Yes sir," John answered, holding up a large flashlight. "We came prepared." "Of course you did," said Mr. Bradshaw, again somehow emanating approval without a change of expression. The storefront proved to be super dusty, of course, but it wasn't very smelly, which was much appreciated by all three men. Besides the shelving on the wall that went entirely around the room, there were eight low rows of shelves in parallel, four on each side of the middle counter station that was directly in front of the main door. A few circular wire displays were scattered around for good measure. Though some displays had collapsed, Andrew could now see that the shelves were still full of product, lending a surreal aura to the room. "Did you just leave everything here?" Andrew asked after a brief debate in his head. "Like I said, I packed up the kids and left. I just didn't have the heart to do anything else. My brothers-in-law came back a bit later and boarded up the windows and stuff so it would be ready when I came back to it, but I never did. It's probably all trash now regardless." "Which reminds me: I wouldn't take offense if you want to bring an inspector out here to check everything before you go for it. In fact, I recommend it. I don't want it on my conscience if the roof is rotten and falls on you or someone else. I've enough regrets already." "Thank you, sir," Andrew responded. "I think that's an excellent plan." "It is," Mr. Bradshaw agreed. "And make sure they check for termite damage. We never had any problems before, but this is out in the middle of nowhere and no one has done a damn thing with it since the boards went up." "Yes, sir." "So, this is obviously the showroom," Mr. Bradshaw said. "You can see the way to the greenhouses right in the middle of the back wall there. To the right side of that passage is the restroom, a small break room, the mechanicals, and the office, and on the left side is a storeroom." "I'm sorry, did you say greenhouses?" "Yep," Mr. Bradshaw confirmed. "This is a nursery. You will need greenhouses." Andrew thought he might have caught a crinkle of amusement at the corners of his eyes, but it was hard to know for sure in the dim light. "I knew there was one," Andrew replied. "I just didn't realize there were more." "Yeah, we have three of them back there. That door leads to the first one and then there were two more identical ones added on to the left of it. We can go look at that next, if you want." "Yes, please." They trooped through the gloom and after a brief fight with another locked and disused door, they were nearly blinded when it opened out into a long greenhouse. They could see where a few of the glass panes had broken, but it was surprisingly intact overall. Andrew had a little sense of d�j� vu when he saw the table with their built-in irrigation system, remembering their clandestine first look. He made it a point to go and re-investigate them for the sake of appearances. "I have to say, Mr. Bradshaw, I'm really impressed with the setup here. You have all the irrigation stuff already set up and the tables are good. I would have done it the same way." "Thanks," he answered just a little gruffly. "Now everything is all computer controlled, so ultimately it was probably just a big waste of money. Live and learn." "Well, for what it's worth, I would still want it this way. Computers are good for a lot of things, but not in managing life." Mr. Bradshaw gave him a long hard look before deciding it was an honest compliment from someone who wasn't an idiot. "I'm glad you like it," he said finally. The other two greenhouses weren't in as good shape as the original, but Andrew took comfort in realizing he wouldn't be able to run those by himself anyway. Once he got the business off the ground, he could hire more help and tackle those later. "And that's pretty much it," Mr. Bradshaw said after the tour. "I actually thought it would be a lot worse around here, to be honest." "How much would the rent be?" They talked numbers as they made their way back outside, locking everything back up as they went. "Are you sure about this, sir?" Andrew asked as they re-emerged into the sunlight. "You are being awfully generous." "Not at all," replied Mr. Bradshaw. "It's been neglected too long, and it would be fitting to my wife's memory to make it useful again. She had a thing for the phoenix. I know how hard it is to start a new business, so I won't be the one to hamstring you before you even get going. You seem a decent fellow, and I figure if I can help keep your hard costs low, it would give you a fighting chance. With a decent amount of elbow grease, it should be enough to get you started. Assuming you're still interested." "I do really love it," Andrew said. "I can't wait to get started." "Glad to hear it." "And you said a house is part of the deal too?" Andrew asked. "Yes, you did," Mr. Bradshaw confirmed. You can check that out too if you like." "I'd like that." "Sure thing. I need to get back, but I s'pose you can check it out without me. I trust this blockhead will bring back my keys after you've poked around," he said, nodding toward John with a sly little smile. "Yes, sir," John assured him. "I will." "You remember how to get there?" "Yes, sir." "Alright then, I'll leave you to it." And with that, the man climbed into his truck and headed back toward town. "Does that mean the house isn't here?" "That depends on how you look at it," John said. "It is on the property and there used to be a path from here you could take to get there, but it's probably overgrown, if not lost completely, so we'll take the driveway." "Lead the way." They hopped back into John's car and made a left turn onto the highway before they turned off again onto the very next driveway. The term "driveway" was generous in this case. It wasn't much more than two dirt tracks for tires to drive on and the grass and weeds were pretty tall. John didn't drive very far before they came to a closed gate. It was too elaborate to be plain, but not fancy enough for an estate either. Andrew wasn't quite sure what to think of it. It had "Phoenix Farms" worked into the upper arch, so he knew this was the right place. John stopped the car and turned it off. "This is no Jeep," he said with a laugh. "I can't see where I'm going in this, so we are just going to have to walk it after all." "Okay," Andrew agreed. They got out and after a little coaxing, John was able to unlock the gate. They followed the driveway tracks through the waist-high grasses. There were lots of trees around and the path curved a bit, so Andrew still couldn't see where they were going. While they trekked, John talked about the times he had come to visit with his family, how Mr. Bradshaw made the best barbecue he had ever had, and what a great hostess Mrs. Bradshaw had been. Daylight was now golden, signaling the coming dusk as the road veered off into the trees to the left. They followed it between a couple overgrown trees and then he saw the house for the first time nestled among the trees. There, in the gathering gloom, he beheld a faded blue two-story home with a peaked roof and a tall chimney poking out through the top. The angle of the roof was sharp enough that it made the house look narrower than it really was, and there was some Victorian filigree under the eaves as well that were painted a lighter color, though Andrew couldn't tell if it used to be white, yellow, or something in between. The front porch extended across the front of the house and a bit around one corner where it ended against a bay window. The porch had triangular gingerbread corbels at the top of each post and the rail was supported by numerous spindles that were ornate without being overly so. When coupled with years' worth of leaves covering the roof and porch, the dark windows, and a couple bent gutters, it made a rather ominous first impression. Luckily, Andrew was able to see past those things and could tell that it wasn't really in terrible shape. On the outside, at least... As they got closer, he could see that there was indeed some work to be done here, but it was still in better condition than the greenhouses, which was encouraging. Andrew turned on his phone light to help John unlock the front door, which turned surprisingly easy compared to the nursery's. He turned the knob and pushed it open when they were stopped in their tracks by a loud blood-curdling shriek. ********* What do you think should happen next? I look forward to hearing from you! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/three-guys-in-berlin/three-guys-in-berlin-5

Date: Mon, 29 Jan 2024 20:12:09 +0100 (CET) From: 74775@tutanota.com Subject: Three Guys in Berlin - 5 Three Guys in Berlin - 5 Thank you to Nifty! Please consider donating: https://donate.nifty.org/. Enjoy this piece of fiction. Do not do irresponsible or illegal stuff. Happy to get your ideas and comments. --- They went to have breakfast in a fancy café. Since his stuff was still at the hotel Jay had borrowed another outfit from Chris. Jay now wore that signature bomber jacket that Chris had worn with so much pride in recent months. He wore it with a T and grey jogging pants that had "SoL" written on it. "You know what that stands for?", Luke had asked him. "It's Spanish for sun", Chris had said. "In Berlin, this stands for `Slave of Luke'", Luke said. "When I wear it, it stands for `Superior of Luke'". Chris smirked. They both laughed. "No underwear in those pants, Jay", Luke said. "OK!", Jay said. He found the thought of going out with no pants pretty sexy. His cock was dangling in those jogging pants. Chris wore another of his slave uniforms. He had a red windbreaker with SoL printed everywhere and matching pants. His slave collar was well visible. No one seemed to care. This was Berlin, after all. Jay still felt a certain unease. The transformation of Chris was complete. He wondered how Chris was even able to work his job with his mindset. But he was determined not to worry. He did not want to ruin everything again. Actually, Chris was not as convinced of his new role as it seemed. Yes, he had a slave nature. But the more he got into it, the more demanding his Master became, the more he sensed that there was no decent way to stop this or to return to a normal life, he asked himself whether this was what he really wanted. He loved the presence of Jay. He felt much more secure. Through Jay's beautiful eyes this looked more like a game. After the fight with Luke, Jay now made it all look like a playful bet. Little did Jay know about how much control Luke had gained over Chris' life -- no communication, no money, no free time without permission. Contacts to close friends and family had been cut off using cunning excuses. Everyday, he wore a slave uniform now, if a bit more subtle. When he did obey instantly, Luke showed his sadistic nature. Today, Luke looked like the star he was, outshining his lackey and the friend who had so much to chew on this weekend. Luke asked Chris to pose on the streets. He took a couple of photos. "Now show me your dick!" Chris took out his dick on the middle of the street. "Now your ass!" Chris complied again. Jay was so stunned. Luke fumbled with the photos. "What do you do with those photos?" "Just showing them to a friend", Luke said casually. Jay was simply stunned. But Chris seemed willing to obey, and after the experiences of the fight, Jay did not intervene. And, also, it was really sexy to see Chris showing off his perfect bubble ass on the streets of Berlin in the middle of a Sunday! After they had settled in the café and had had their first coffees, Luke told them of his plan: "Guys, we need to celebrate our friendship! And we need to make sure that we understand each other really well! We have to let go! We are still so caught up in our everyday lives and our social constraints, we have to get out of that. I want you to free your mind!" Jay eyed him with some irony. "You got that from some yoga retreat, you guru?" "I mean it. Jay, maybe it is difficult for you to understand, but the experience that I had with Chris over the past weeks was so deep, so different, so fulfilling, that I know that there is more in life. And I want to share that with you. Last night, I understood that you are the best that ever happened to Chris, and therefore, I want you to benefit from this, too. And I will certainly benefit from this as well. As does the slave." Jay looked into Luke's icy blue eyes. Luke didn't blink once. He looked at him piercingly. Jay felt the cock harden in his pants. What if that wasn't bla-bla nonsense? What if you really have to get involved in it once, to experience it? What if there is a deeper layer somewhere in life? He felt that he really had a crush on Luke in this moment. That man had turned his old best friend Chris completely into someone new, trained him to be his personal slave. And Chris, formerly a self-confident, good-humoured, communicative and stylish young man was now a shy, attentive serf in a ridiculous slave uniform. And he even looked happy in this role. This was intriguing. "What do you think of?", Jay asked. "We go on holidays for a week! Gran Canaria! La isla de mi vida!" Luke painted the picture of a glorious time at the most beautiful beaches on earth with seducing dunes and partying in scenic places. Life was so easy there and so rewarding. "I have a friend who owns a villa there, we can use it anytime", Luke said. "Wow", said Jay, "that sounds really great." "I want to go there with you for one week. And we will see what life means for us after that." Jay and Chris nodded, yes, this was what they wanted to experience with Luke. "Deal! When do we go for it?", Jay asked. "Today", replied Luke. "What?!" "After breakfast, we pack our stuff and go to the airport. There is a flight at 6 pm tonight. We will make that one." Jay laughed in disbelief, but he saw that Luke meant it. "Luke, Chris and me, we have jobs to do. And also, I'm not sure I can finance a last minute flight to Gran Canaria just like that!" "Don't worry about the money. Chrisslave will pay for the trip. And call in sick for the job or a take a week off, whatever is more suitable." "Luke, maybe you don't know because you have nothing to do but chill all day, but if I call in sick, I must submit a medical certificate after three days at the latest. And I don't think that's going to be well received coming from a doctor in Maspalomas that I bribed to do it!" "I notice you are okay with Chrisslave paying then, that is good." Jay looked a little embarrassed. "Regarding that fucking doctor we can settle it here beforehand." Luke took his phone, spoke with someone, and asked Jay for some personal data. After the call, Luke ordered Chris to pick up the certificates. "After that you pick up Jay's stuff at the hotel. Jay, give him your hotel card. I want you back at our place in 75 minutes sharp. I want all bags packed by 3:30. Jay and I attend to some other stuff in the meantime." Then he gave them a broad smile. "So, it is settled then. Boys, we are going to Spain!!!" They high-fived and they all became very excited. "Now run, slave!" "Thank you, Master!", Chris said. He flew away in his red windbreaker, the perfect SoL he had become. "What are we up to till then? Should we not pack the stuff?" "You are not used to having a servant, are you? What kind of Alpha boy are you, then?" Jay laughed. Luke and Jay left the café shortly afterwards. Luke called an Uber and Jay was surprised that they went to his hotel. Jay smiled. He had never shown up there after checking in, but his stuff was still there. "You ordered Chris to pick up my stuff", said Jay. "We are not here to pick up your stuff", said Luke. They asked at reception for another card to Jay's room, Jay proved his identity, and they got it. As soon as they had closed the door of the nice room, Luke started kissing Jay. The blinds were down. The hotel room was dimly lit. The two went wild. Jay let out a shuddering breath as Luke's lips met his, their tongues tangling hungrily. Soon, the room was filled with the intoxicating scent of their sweat. Jay's hands were tangled in Luke's blond hair. Luke held Jay firmly, his strong hands gripping Jay's ass cheeks possessively. When they finally broke apart for air, Luke looked at Jay, his eyes burning with desire. "I want you, Jay," he growled. "I want to feel you beneath me, I want to cum into your ass." He reached down and pulled the jogging pants down, freeing Jay's cock, already hard and throbbing. Luke dragged Jay to the bed. "Luke," Jay whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "I want you, too. But I need you to understand." Luke stopped in his tracks, his eyes blazing into Jay's. "Understand what?" he asked, his voice tight. "That you don't want this? That you don't want me?" "No, that's not it," he said, his voice gentle. "It's just that I need to be in control. I'm a top, Luke. I'm not like Chris." Luke saw Jay's beautiful eyes that were filled with desire, love, and anxiety. Luke exhaled sharply, his chest heaving. His hand reached out to touch Jay's cheek. "I understand," he said finally. "You want to be on top, Jay? Then show me. Prove it. Take control." Jay's hands roamed over Luke's muscular frame, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. He slipped one hand between them, teasing at the waistband of Luke's boxers, tugging gently until they came off. Luke's erection sprang free, thick and impossibly long, and Jay couldn't help but marvel at its size. He leaned forward, he simply had to touch this one again. He took Luke's cock into his mouth, sucking gently. Luke cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily. Jay bobbed his head, expertly using his tongue to tease the sensitive underside of Luke's shaft as he took more of him into his mouth. He felt Luke's hands fist in the sheets, his body tense. "Fuck," Luke gasped, "that feels so good." Jay let go of Luke's hard XL cock. He spit on his own cock and prepared to push it into Luke's ass that he tried to lube with his spit. Luke suddenly changed his tone. "What do you think, you bottom whore? You can fuck the Master?" "I will take control of your ass, Luke, and yes, I will give you a good fucking and plant my seed into your hole!" He started to press his cock towards Luke's ass. But Luke hit Jay hard in his face. Jay tumbled back into the sheets. "If you want to make me your fuck hole you have to be a lot sharper, Jay!" Luke now used all his force. He pressed Jay who was completely taken by surprise into the sheets and cut off his air. He was now sitting on Jay. Jay tried to breathe and struggle free, but the tall blond man was holding him tight. Luke spit on his face. "This is control, you understand that, you wannabe-master?" Jay's eyes bulged, he was really short of breath, but he still noticed that his cock was hard as steel. "You cunt. Now you will obey me like a good puppy, stick your ass in the air and I will fuck you raw. Will you?" Jay had no air. He nodded. He was in awe of the brute force that Luke exerted. "Say it loud!" Luke let him breathe. "I will obey you, you sick monster", Jay said. Luke hit him hard again in his face and pierced his right nipple with his hand. "Try again!" "Sorry, sorry", Jay cried. "I will obey you, Master!" "Better, slaveboy, now do as I told you." Jay positioned himself on all fours and stuck his ass up in the air for Luke to take it. Luke gazed down at Jay, his muscles bunching and flexing as he thrust deeper inside the younger man's ass. They started fucking raw. Luke saw how handsome Jay looked, a really fresh and sporty man. Jay pushed his hips forward, meeting Luke's thrusts with equal force. The air was thick with the scent of their arousal, and Jay could feel his own climax building, threatening to explode from deep within him. His ass clenched uncontrollably around Luke's thrusting cock, milking him, urging him closer to the brink. Luke growled, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt Jay's muscles trembling beneath him. His pace quickened, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He knew he was close, so close to losing control and spilling his seed deep inside Jay's ass. As he neared his release, Luke began to softly whisper words of desire into Jay's ear, his thrusts growing steadier and deeper. "I love you, Jay. You're perfect. You feel so good, so right. I never want this to end." Jay moaned, his body responding to the intimate words and the incredible sensations. His head was blank. He did not know what to make out of all this. Was he now a slave of Luke? The new lover? He decided to forget and just let the body take control. Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, Luke's powerful thrusts meeting Jay's eager thrusts, their skin slapping together in time with the pounding of their hearts. Jay could feel Luke's cock throbbing inside him, and with one final, powerful thrust, he felt the hot rush of Luke's cum filling him up. His own orgasm followed in quick succession, waves of pleasure washing over him as he cried out and convulsed beneath Luke's weight. As they both came down from their climax, they became dimly aware of a new presence in the room. Luke's slave Chris had entered silently, his eyes wide with shock and arousal as he took in the scene before him. The slave stood frozen for a moment, his own erection straining against his trousers, before finally mustering the courage to speak. "Master Luke," he whispered, his voice trembling, "I... I didn't mean to interrupt." Luke's chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath, his gaze still locked on Jay's. "It's alright, slave," he managed to say between gasps. The timing was perfect, exactly as planned. "You see... this is what Jay needs. This is what we both need." Chris nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the sight of Jay's sweaty, flushed body stretched out on the bed. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, but at the same time, he admired Luke all the more for his dominance and control. He now had Jay under his command? Jay, meanwhile, was just beginning to regain his senses. His muscles ached from the intense pounding they had just endured, but there was a delicious fullness in his ass that he hadn't felt in months. "Jay makes for a fantastic bottom. You can be proud to have such a talented best friend!", Luke said to Chris. Jay wanted to protest, but he was too exhausted. Chris was out of his mind. As much as he admired Luke and as much as he had already accepted his role, deep within him there was still a need for... some kind of being a normal self-confident guy. Now, his last ally had also submitted to Luke? His old alpha friend Jay could also be reduced to a willing servant by this man? It seemed to Chris as if he had just lost his last exit option. It dawned on him that there was no way out. Luke was right. His only purpose was to be there for him. He had to embrace his submissive nature and live only to make the blonde god happy. "Eat out his ass!", commanded Luke. "So you can have some of my delicious juice." "Thank you Master." "Clean him up well, and hurry up, you need to pack our stuff!" Luke himself leaned back, content. He was eager to see how far he could go on Gran Canaria with this slave and his old best friend. Comments & ideas are welcome: 74775 (at) tutanota.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-66

Date: Tue, 05 Nov 2024 15:49:32 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 66 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 66 Andrew gasped despite himself. Unlike last night, John felt absolutely huge. Andrew must have been super relaxed for it to have seemed so different in bed. He definitely felt stuffed this time and had trouble catching his breath. John left him no time to adjust before pulling out and sliding back in again. Andrew willed himself to open up and that helped, but he knew he was going to be feeling this one for a while. He adjusted himself a little with every stroke, trying to find the best angle, but no matter what he did, John still felt enormous. John's hands on his hips held him in place, so there was only so much he could do anyway. It didn't matter. His man was drilling him hard, and Andrew was up for it. He figured he'd earned this after yesterday's pounding of John, and he would take his licks. John was grunting from behind him like an animal in heat, and that made it that much hotter. He tried to push back, but even then, John kept him pretty much where he was. Despite the pressure of the massive dick inside him and the lack of control, Andrew was loving it. "Yeah, John," he moaned. "Fuck me!" John obliged with a continued onslaught on the beautiful ass in front of him until he was past the point of no return. "I'm going to load you up now," he growled. "Yeah!" panted Andrew. "Seed me!" Andrew felt the huge fuck pole surge even larger inside him, threatening to tear him open before John pushed it in so deep that Andrew could feel John's balls mash against his perineum. At the same time, one of John's hands reached around his waist and the other around his chest and over his shoulder, drawing Andrew into the tightest embrace ever. He could feel each pulse of cum shoot through the length of John's cock before it escaped into his rectum. Andrew would swear he could taste it in the back of his mouth. Even after he stopped spewing his personal lava, John still held him incredibly tight to the point that Andrew had to work to draw breath. His own cock was so hard that it hurt, and Andrew didn't dare touch it. "Damn�" exclaimed John finally. "You took the word right out of my mouth," Andrew gasped. "Along with my breath." "Oh!" said John, instantly loosening his hold on Andrew. "My bad! I guess I got a little carried away." "At least you took me with you," Andrew quipped. "I love you," John said in his ear with a nice genuine hug from behind. "I love you too," Andrew replied. "Though I think we'd better get a move on, right?" "Oh! Yeah, though I can't say the party will be anywhere near as nice as this." "If only we could see each other after the party," Andrew joked. "Yeah yeah yeah," John said, letting go of him again. "You're right." They climbed out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed before they were at the sinks again finishing up. "Is the party back in town?" Andrew asked. "Yeah, they always have their parties at the restaurant since it's a good-sized space and can accommodate the whole family. Every party is a big deal and nearly everyone shows up every time. It must be a Greek thing." "Sounds fun." "It'll be crazy," John confirmed. "You ready to roll?" "Yeah, just need to grab my things." They gathered the last of their stuff into the bags and went back out into the great room where Grandpa Liam and Gram Nora were sitting together watching an old black and white movie on an impossibly large screen that Andrew didn't remember seeing before. When they saw the boys come out of their room, they paused the show as they stood up to see them off. "Thank you so much for letting us hang out with you," Andrew said. "It was great meeting you and getting to know you both." "The pleasure was all ours, young man," Nora said as she reached out to give him a hug. "We hope to see you again soon." "I'd like that," Andrew confessed. "Good!" added Liam. "Because we've decided to stay here for a bit and would love to have you back. Plus, I'd be happy to help any way I can in your little venture, so please don't hesitate to call me." "Thank you," Andrew said gratefully. "Though I don't have your�" he trailed off as Liam pulled a little metal card from his pocket. "Where's your phone, son?" Andrew fished it out of his pocket and Liam tapped it lightly with the card. "There you are," he said. "All my info is right there. Call me anytime; I'd love to help." Andrew looked at his phone to see Liam's contact information and personal website along with a nice professional picture that had all been loaded right into his phone with the tap. "And yes," Nora added. "I'm fine with that too�as long as you don't suck him away for days at a time." "I won't," Andrew promised. "I'm sure you won't, dear. Now you boys go have fun at the party and tell them best wishes from us too, won't you Johnny?" "Of course!" John agreed. "And one last thing," Liam said. "Yeah?" asked John. "Could you pull my car in when you leave?" "Of course! Is the key in its usual place?" "Always." "I'll take care of it." "Thanks, Johnny." John gave his grandfather a tilt of the head in acknowledgment before he and Andrew headed for the inclinator doors. They opened automatically as they approached, and they stepped in. John said "Go" and the doors automatically closed again before the lift began its descent. "Wait," said Andrew. "This thing is voice activated?" "Yeah," John replied a little quizzically. "You didn't notice that on the way up?" "I guess not," he admitted. "Well, there was a lot of stuff to see," John offered. "That must be it," Andrew said slowly. The doors slid open again when they reached the lower level and they stepped out into the long display corridor with its array of silver machines leading to the exit. "It will be good to see Althea again," Andrew said. "She seemed really nice." "And don't forget Alex," John replied. "Alex?" "Yeah, Alex. Althea's brother. The three of us were inseparable growing up." "Then I look forward to meeting him too." "`Looking forward to�?' Oh! You're right! You didn't meet him at the restaurant when we ate there, did you?" "Not as far as I know. The only person I met was Althea. She was pretty and bailed you out of jail once." John laughed. "I see I'm not the only one paying attention." "In my defense, it's not every day I get to hear a story like that one." "I suppose not," John agreed. By then, they had reached the Quonset hut part of the garage, and John hit the door button before reaching for a small door set into the wall. He popped the door open and grabbed the keys inside. They plopped their bags in the bag of John's BMW and climbed in before John backed it out. "Be right back," he said to Andrew before getting back out to pull an enormous deep red sedan that Andrew didn't recognize into the spot he had just vacated. He disappeared back into the garage for a moment before the door began to close and Andrew spied him coming around from the side of the building. He climbed back in and once his seatbelt was buckled, he turned back to Andrew. "I think we're finally ready to go," he announced as if it was a revelation. "Need to stop anywhere along the way, or shall we just head over?" Andrew shrugged. "I don't need anything, so let's go." "Aye, captain!" John said with a smile and away they went. Once they were back on the road, John glanced over at Andrew again. "I can't believe you haven't met Alex yet." "Nope." "You are way overdue then," he said ruefully. "What's the big deal?" "I guess nothing," John admitted with a laugh. "But he IS my best friend and has been since we were five. He's probably mad that Thea met you and he hasn't yet." "I thought she was your best friend�" "She's my second bestie for sure, but I'm a little closer to Alex." "Should I be worried?" "Of course not! Why would you even think that?" "Maybe he's super jealous. What then?" "Oh my God, Andrew! Relax already! You'll be fine. He's cool." "Okay." "Did I mention we've been friends since we were five? We wouldn't be if he weren't super cool. He stuck with me despite all the crap I went through, and it couldn't have been easy. Sometimes when I was at my worst, he would just come over to make me dinner, force me to eat some of it, and sit with me in silence for hours." "Is he that bad of a cook?" "Huh? Oh! No, I just wasn't in the mood to eat anything. He's a fantastic cook. In fact, that's probably why you didn't see him at the restaurant: he's in charge of the kitchen there." "Well, it will be nice to meet him then." "It will," John assured him. "I know you guys will hit it off." "And whose birthday is it again?" "Alex and Althea's YaYa. She must be about a hundred now." "Whoa!" "Yeah, she's super sweet but still feisty as hell." "She sounds cool." "She is. You'll like her." It wasn't long before they arrived and made their way inside. John was immediately barraged with hellos and hugs and little kids showing him their treasures and new special skills from cartwheels to crossing their eyes to memorized poems. He was clearly accepted as part of the family, and as his boyfriend, Andrew was swept into the chaos right along with him. It was a rambunctious family with very few quiet ones to be found. It wasn't long before they all settled down just a bit to focus on YaYa herself. Just as John had described, she had a sharp wit and tongue, but her heart of gold was on full display. At 98, she was always in the middle of all the commotion. As much as she enjoyed being in the midst of everything, she didn't seem as comfortable being the actual center of attention, quickly and loudly proclaiming that it was past time to eat after about ten minutes of sitting through accolades and well-wishing. The cheers from the children assured her victory, and the food was quickly brought out. Heaps and heaps of it was set out and the horde descended on it like ravenous wolves. Andrew and John managed to fill their plates (with what, Andrew wasn't entirely sure) and find a smaller table at the fringe of the room. They were soon joined by Althea in a pretty summer dress that somehow looked contemporary despite its floral pattern and a young man who was obviously her brother. He was dressed in a simple white buttoned shirt and gray slacks and had the same exotic coloring as she did with dark curly hair, olive skin, and piercing blue eyes. His smile activated stunning dimples and revealed nearly perfect white teeth. Yes, Andrew decided, this guy could be a model if he wanted to be. "So, you're the Andrew I've heard so much about!" he said after John officially introduced him. "So glad to finally meet you! I was beginning to think I was on the outs," he said with a humorously pointed look at John. "If it's any consolation, I've heard of you quite a bit too," Andrew replied, stretching the truth just a bit. "It's nice to put a face to the name." "The real question is whether he's told you any stories of what kind of trouble we'd get into," Alex said with a smile. Andrew shook his head. "Not yet, he hasn't." "Really? That's a shame, because we have some good stories, let me tell you." "Oh yeah?" "Oh yeah! The hard part is knowing where to begin!" "I think he said you've been friends since you were five?" Andrew asked. "Sounds about right," Alex confirmed. "It started when one of his older brothers kicked a ball over the fence and then sent Johnny over to get it back. My mom had me take him to the back yard to find it, and when we did, I kicked it back over and (accidentally) hit his brother in the head with it. We've been fast friends ever since," he said, smiling broadly. "You really hit him in the head?" "I didn't actually see it," confessed Alex. "And I certainly didn't mean to, but judging by how pissed he was, I'm pretty sure I did." "Awesome." "Served him right for making me do his dirty work anyway," interjected John. "Just after that was when we realized we were all in the same grade," said Althea. "Wait," Andrew interrupted. "All three of you were in the same grade?" "Yeah," confirmed Althea, waving at Alex. "We're twins." "Oh! That makes sense." "You're right," said Alex as an aside to John. We're going to have to work hard to pull one over on him, aren't we?" "I told you," said John with all the air of a proud papa. "Don't worry," Althea said, putting a hand on Andrew's arm. "Whatever they have cooking up in their brains, they're usually harmless bits of fun. They both know I'll smother them in their sleep if they hurt someone." "Mama Thea be talkin'�" said Alex with a funny drawl. "That's her game after all," piped in John. "You know I back up what I say. I've got bigger balls than both of you, and you know it!" "Yes, Mama," Alex and John said in unison with mock humility. She was about to dish back another retort, but a niece ran up to the table just then. "Auntie Thea, come see!" she pleaded excitedly, grabbing Althea's hand to pull her away. "My public is calling," she said with a smile. "But this isn't over. I'll be back." Then she let the little one lead her away. "She seems like she might just live up to her billing," Andrew observed. "Oh, she does," Alex hurriedly agreed. "You do NOT want to cross her. Ever." "Noted," chuckled Andrew. "If she's queen bee, does that make you the king?" "Hardly," snorted Alex. "She thinks we're her minions." "Let's face it, Alex," said John with a smile. "We really kind of are." "I know," admitted Alex. "But we can't let her know we know. You know?" "Exactly." "Hey look, Uncle Giorgio is waving me over," said Alex. "Probably about the food. I'll be right back." Andrew watched him make is way to Uncle Giorgio for a minute before turning back to John. "So you and Alex used to get into trouble all the time?" "I prefer the term `mischief' if you don't mind," replied John with a smirk. "And really it was all three of us, but Thea somehow managed to get away without being caught most of the time. I still don't know how she did it besides batting her eyes and pleading ignorance even though it was usually her idea." "The masterminds always get off scot-free," Andrew said. "Everyone knows that." "Now that you mention it, I suppose you're right," John replied with a sigh. "But it was worth it: she always had awesome ideas." "Did she?" "She did. Like once we had a teacher who loved to give us tests and long quizzes because she always wanted us to be quiet. And every time, Miss Olivia would blithely start typing something on her computer that was one of those old ones with the really loud keyboards that were super distracting when you're trying to think. She was kinda spacey, so we started calling her Miss Oblivia. She kept it up even after we complained that it made it hard to concentrate. In fact, I swear she attacked the keys harder after we brought it up. Thea finally got fed up with it and while everyone else was at recess, she had me and Alex glue all the keys down. Let me tell you, Miss Oblivia was pissed! Of course she got a new keyboard by the very next class, but it was a newer one that was much quieter. So ultimately we won, though she hated me and Alex forever after that." "But not Althea?" "Like I said, no one believed sweet little Thea would do such a thing, so we got in trouble for lying on top of it all even though we weren't." "Funny!" "Now it is, but it wasn't then!" "I can imagine," Andrew laughed. "Before you tell me another story, where's the restroom here?" John pointed over to one side of the kitchen. "It's right around that corner on the right." "Thanks, I'll be right back." "I'll be right here waiting for you with bated breath," John answered brightly. Andrew rolled his eyes. "Drama queen," he said, sticking his tongue out a little bit as he got up from the table. Andrew found the restroom without trouble and pushed the door open and walked in before he realized it was already occupied. Standing at the urinal with the front of his trousers folded back, Alex was arching his back and stretching his long lean frame enough to expose his midriff. Andrew saw the treasure trail on his almost too-perfect abs leading down to a trimmed bush above the most beautiful uncut penis he'd ever seen. ********* Thanks for reading my tale! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks again for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-57

Date: Sat, 08 Jun 2024 17:16:32 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 57 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 57 "Blow jobs?" Andrew repeated. "Yeah," Thomas confirmed without explaining. Andrew got an alarmed look on his face. "Did you..." "No!" John and Thomas both said at the same time. "Nothing happened between us," John added. "Well, a short hug at the end, I guess, but nothing more, I promise." "Okay," Andrew said, clearly a little mind-bent over the situation. John sighed inwardly before he reminded himself this was still progress for Andrew. And his nervousness was completely warranted, truth be told. After all, John had been tempted to cross that line. But he hadn't, so nothing to worry about. The truth will always win out, right? "Did you say everyone else has gone?" he asked Andrew. "Yeah." John turned to Thomas. "Sorry, bud, but we should probably head out too. Do you need a lift home?" "Which direction are you going?" "Downtown." "I'm actually in the opposite direction, but thanks. I'll just get an Uber." "You sure?" "Oh yeah. The station's paying for it anyway, so I'm good." "Okay then." Thomas sent for an Uber, and John and Andrew chatted with him outside the bar until it arrived. "Sorry I kept you guys so late," Thomas said. "I know you wanted to leave early." "Don't worry about it," John said. "It's actually not that late and we'll be fine." "Still," Thomas said, "I'm glad you guys came out. It means a lot." "Glad to be here," John told him. "It was fun," Andrew said. "I got to hear some good stories about you tonight." "I'm sure they were embellished," Thomas assured him. "Take the fun out of it," Andrew teased. A silver Prius pulled up in front of them. "I guess that's my ride," Thomas said. They exchanged hugs and farewells before Thomas was whisked away. "Well that was fun," John said as they walked back to the car. "Uh huh," replied Andrew absently. "And it was nice to meet his fireman friends." "Uh huh," Andrew repeated. "Especially the orgy on the pool table." "Uh huh." It wasn't until they were buckled up and back on the road that John tried again. "How about them Cowboys?" "Uh huh." "And the space aliens." "Uh huh." "And when that huge dragon swooped down and flew off with the bartender." "Uh huh." John checked his rearview mirror to make sure there was no one behind them and then promptly slammed on the brakes and brought them to a total stop in the middle of the street. "Hey!" Andrew exclaimed. "Welcome back to the land of the living!" John replied as he brought the car back up to speed. "What?" "You clearly checked out there and didn't hear a word I said." "Yes, I did," protested Andrew. John glanced over at him to give him a quick look. "Okay, maybe I was a little distracted," Andrew admitted. "I think more than a little," John suggested. "Are you thinking about Thomas?" Andrew didn't answer, but he looked very uncomfortable. "You haven't decided to believe us that nothing happened, have you?" "It's taking me a minute, okay?" "Yes, it's okay. Can I help you talk it out?" Andrew stayed silent again. "I told you we didn't do anything outside of a hug, right?" "Yeah." "But you don't believe me. Have I lost your trust somehow?" Something switched in Andrew's head, and he started talking. "It just came back to me about what you said about your family being so open and everything and now it makes me wonder..." "You're wondering if I would do something with your brother." "Yeah. I know it's stupid, but I can't help wondering now." "First of all, it's not stupid," John began. "It's completely valid." He paused and took a breath. "I know what I'm going to say next is going to trigger you a little bit, but can you stick with me to the end of the conversation?" Andrew nodded, but John was watching the road, so he didn't see it. They drove nearly a block before John spoke again. "Are you willing to do that?" "Yeah." "Okay, so you're right: I don't have any hangups about doing that in and of itself. You may feel weird hearing me say this, but he's as hot as you are in a slightly different way. But you are the one I love. I will always do my best to make sure I don't do anything to compromise you. Even if the opportunity comes up, I wouldn't mess around with him without your express permission." "You wouldn't?" "Of course not!" John answered adamantly. "Then you really didn't mess around with him?" "Andrew! I did not mess around with your brother!" "Okay." "I know we've only known each other for months, but I'm guessing you know Thomas a lot better than me, don't you?" "I suppose so." "Would that fit what you know of him?" "Well, he's always been more of a wild child than me." "Oh, my love, most people are," John teased gently. "I know," replied Andrew with a wry grin. "It's one of the things I like about you," John added. "I don�-I mean, my family is most decidedly not as open as yours apparently is. It never even occurred to me to bring up stuff like this with Thomas." "Stuff like...?" prodded John. "Sex." "Ah. That makes sense. Would you like to know about our conversation?" "Yes. No. It's not my business. Is it?" "Relax, Andrew! It wasn't that big a deal. He was just curious if guys are better at blow jobs than women. That's it." There was no need to bring up Thomas's alcohol-primed additional antics, John decided. That would surely send Andrew into a tizzy. "What did you say?" "I told him it depended on the person, but men have dicks, so they inherently know more about what to do with them. And that was about the extent of it." "That's it? That was as far as the conversation went?" "We did talk about other things too, but as far as sex, yeah. That was it." "Why didn't he ask me?" John gave him another look. "Didn't you just tell me it never occurred to you to even bring it up with him?" "Yeah," admitted an embarrassed Andrew. "And you wonder why he didn't ask you?" "I am his older brother, after all, and Dad is most assuredly not an option for that kind of question." John thought for a moment, weighing how to respond. If he was going to make a mistake, he decided he'd rather err on the side of transparency with Andrew. "Interestingly, that was the other thing we talked about." "Really?" "Yes. I asked him why he didn't ask you about it, and it turns out he doesn't want you to think less of him for having questions." "I would never think less of him for that!" Andrew said vehemently. "No? Not even if he had asked you last month?" "No," answered Andrew with considerably less certainty. "Face it, buddy: you've changed your thinking a lot recently regarding sex." "Yeah," admitted Andrew quietly. From his response, John guessed he had inadvertently fired up some of Andrew's doubts again. Ugh. John attempted to push Andrew on from that train of thought. "Speaking of which, what has been your favorite new discovery so far?" "What?" "Of all the new things we've done together, what's your favorite?" "Oh man," Andrew answered. "I don't know if I can pick just one." "Oh yeah? So it's been good?" "Come on, you know it's been amazing!" "Do I? You've never said anything to me about it at all," John teased. "That's not true!" "Maybe not. Maybe I'm just fishing for compliments," laughed John. "It's been fun finding out that I like more than just blow jobs and vanilla," Andrew said indulgently. "It seems I have less limits than I thought." "Yay for self-discovery!" laughed John. "And it's all due to you," Andrew added. "For what it's worth, you make it all fun again for me too. I get to experience the joy of new things all over again. Like bottoming," he said with a laugh. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah. I'd forgotten how good a big thick cock like yours can feel sliding deep inside me. I was being Super Dom for quite a while there, remember? And doms just don't bottom. It messes up the whole scenario. Power bottoms are one thing, but can you imagine me making you call me `Master' and `Sir' and then turning around and bending over for you?" Andrew made a funny noise, and John looked over to see his cock straining at full attention inside his pants. "It's been forever since I've been interested in taking it, but you seem to have me wrapped around your little finger," John continued, egging Andrew on. "The smallest word from you, and I'm on my back in moments, happy as a clam. You mess me up, mister." Moisture was starting to seep through Andrew's trousers when John spared another quick glance. That didn't take long, John chuckled to himself. It looks like Andrew is primed to play tonight. They were running out of dense city, so John ran through options quickly in his head and settled on a plan. He continued to suggestively banter with Andrew to rev him up while he found the parking garage he was thinking of about a half mile ahead. He pulled in, grabbed a ticket, and made is way up the garage until he got to the top deck. He was thrilled when he found it devoid of any cars. Just rows of parking spaces with two lamp posts evenly spaced along the centerline. He parked his little BMW smack dab in the middle between them. "What are we doing here?" Andrew asked. "I can't wait until we get home," John growled. "Get out of the car." Andrew did as he was told and then was directed toward the back of the convertible, where John grabbed him roughly into his arms and mashed their faces together into an intense kiss. John held Andrew's head close with one strong hand while his other arm did the same just below Andrew's shoulders. There was no escape. Andrew was gasping for breath, but John did not let up and continued to invade his mouth forcefully with his tongue. Both men could feel the other's engorged cock as they were pressed together without mercy: pulsing, straining, hurting. Not long after Andrew started whimpering from the pain, John suddenly let go of Andrew completely, causing him to momentarily lose his balance and almost fall over. He hadn't even gotten his balance before John barked at him to strip�-now! Andrew didn't hesitate, ripping off his shirt in seconds while kicking his shoes off to peel his shorts and slacks down all at once as fast as he could. He was in such a hurry, they bunched up and slowed him down, making him grunt with frustration as he struggled. He had to lean on the car to stay upright as his dripping cock swayed and jerked with its newfound freedom. John grabbed him once again into another merciless bear hug, pulling Andrew's smooth naked body tight against his more muscular�-and still fully clothed�-frame. This time, John had one hand around his shoulder keeping him crushingly close while his other hand had a firm grasp of one of his tight buns. They made out furiously as John worked on pulling that ass cheek away from its twin. John could imagine the winking peek-a-boo Andrew's pucker was doing as he worked. When Andrew started pushing his butt back into John's hand, he let him go again. "Get these shoes off me!" John yelled, despite Andrew still being mere inches from him. Andrew dropped down to untie and remove John's short boots from his feet. John grabbed his own shirt and pulled it over his head while Andrew worked. Without even being told, Andrew jumped up when he was finished and immediately started on John's belt. In mere moments, John was as naked as Andrew. John quickly hooked his arms under Andrew's armpits and pulled him up into yet another passionate kiss. But he didn't stop pulling even after Andrew was standing straight and tall in front of him. Instead, he drew Andrew on top of him as he laid himself back and down onto the trunk of his car. When he could feel the head of Andrew's pecker nudging his back door in perfect position, he finally released his grip on Andrew's shoulders. Andrew was able to draw back a little at that point, and the expression on his face was absolutely perfect. John watched as Andrew went from surprise to confusion to revelation to disbelief to determination in a second. John had just the barest hint of a grin as he grabbed his ankles, spreading his furry ass wide to show the pink target hidden within his fur. "Nail me!" he barked. Andrew paused before obeying this time. "Lube?" he asked uncertainly. "No! Drill me now!" John could practically see Andrew licking his lips as he grinned hungrily before he replied properly. "Yes, Sir!" Andrew pulled back and then slammed his rock-hard tool full force into the ass before him. In that moment, Andrew bellowed, John roared, and they were lit up bright as day with headlights as a car came around the corner from the ramp. Andrew was caught off guard instantly, but John didn't bat an eye. "Don't you dare stop!" He growled loudly. Andrew didn't. ********* Out of curiosity, where are you reading this story from? What do you think should happen next? I look forward to hearing from you! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-46

Date: Thu, 09 Nov 2023 18:18:53 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 46 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 46 Andrew instantly choked up and couldn't speak. His eyes welling with tears, he just threw himself at John and gave him a huge hug and cried into his shoulder. "There, there," said John, patting his back. "Was it something I said?" Andrew had to laugh despite himself. John let him snuggle a bit longer before he pulled back. "Okay," he finally said. "We really do need to go." He was right. It was after sunset now and the light was almost gone, so it took a little bit of doing to wade through the underbrush and get to the car. All the way back, they chatted about Andrew's nursery plans. It seemed like just a few minutes before they were pulling into his driveway. They hopped out and Andrew grabbed his backpack from the trunk before John wrapped his arms around him in a big hug. "I had a great time with you this weekend," he said, looking into Andrew's eyes. "Me too," Andrew whispered. "I don't know how or why, but every day I spend with you is better than the one before." "I'm so glad you feel that way," John said. "Because I was just thinking the same thing. I love you." "I love you too." John leaned in and they kissed long and hard. By the time they were finished, other things were long and hard. "Want to come inside?" Andrew asked softly. "What do you think?" Answered John in a low voice with the hint of a growl. Andrew smiled and led him inside. He absentmindedly tossed his bag on the couch as they went up the stairs to his room, their fingers hooked together as they walked. When they got to the bed, Andrew turned and they picked up where they left off with a good long kiss. John started to unbutton his shirt, but�without breaking the kiss�Andrew swatted his hands down. "'Mm `mm," Andrew grunted into the kiss. Not exactly eloquent, but John understood what he meant: don't do that. Andrew's hands traveled around John's back and sides, stroking and feeling John's body through his clothes. John followed suit until his hands stopped and rested on Andrew's firm butt, gripping tightly. Andrew eventually moved around to open the first button on John's shirt and then went back to stroking while he kissed and licked the triangle where John's neck met his chest. When he had finished smothering that spot with attention, he undid the next button and repeated the process, matting the exposed hair on John's chest with his tongue. Then the third button was undone, exposing the top half of his pecs, which were properly attended to while he continued to caress and stroke John's back, sides, and arms. John had his hands loosely on Andrew's head and moaned his appreciation as he worked on him. John's nipples were revealed with the opening of the fourth button, and Andrew spent extra time on those, much to John's delight. The fifth release bared his belly button and the rest of his pecs, so it took Andrew a long time to go over it all this time. Not that time was an issue. He had decided at the outset that he was going to take it nice and slow. No rushing through things or skipping them to get to the punchline quicker. Then the last button was released, and Andrew made sure to cover every last little bit of John's front with his lips and tongue. Through all this, his hands never stopped caressing except to undo the fasteners. He started on John's sides as well, but discovered that John was ticklish there, so after a few teases, he left that alone. He looked up to see John smiling at him fondly. "Okay, mister. You've set a high bar, but now it's my turn." He scooped Andrew up in his arms and laid him gently in the middle of the bed before he crawled up got on all fours above Andrew. John's smile lacked the impish quality it usually had, replacing it with an earnestness that added to the intensity of the situation. Andrew knew instantly that John was going to forgo his banter and teasing this time around. He wouldn't be left high and dry like John tended to do. He was all business this time around. John followed Andrew's example and added to it, trailing his tongue everywhere he went and leaning down to brush his hair or rub his stubble against Andrew's body. Andrew just laid back to enjoy every sensation John created for him. He was still in awe that this sexy man was his, let alone what he was doing to him. He was in absolute heaven. Having thoroughly attended to Andrew's chest, John moved up until they were eye to eye again. Still hovering over him on his hands and knees, John leaned down for a gentle and dedicated kiss. Even the one in the driveway couldn't compare to this one. Their tongues teased, twined, and tasted each other while their lips brushed and pressed. Even though they weren't actually touching, Andrew could still feel the heat emanating from John's body suspended above him. He could also smell John's outdoorsy scent with a hint of salty sweat. He felt wrapped up into John again, but the only actual contact was by mouth. It was like basking in a warm glow of a fire. It was amazingly erotic despite the fact that they hadn't even taken their shirts off yet. A certain part of him was quite anxious to get out of its constraining clothing, but Andrew ignored it�-and the wet spot it was making in protest�-for now. Instead, his hands crawled up John's arms, under his shirt, and over his shoulders as he felt the taut muscles in action. John may not be the leanest guy in the world, but he still had amazing definition in his muscles when they were tensed like this. His fingers explored them appreciatively. John pulled back from the kiss for a moment. "Shall we lose our shirts?" "Yeah, I think it's time." John grinned and took hold of Andrew's shoulders. With an impressive jerk, he pulled himself and Andrew up at the same time so he was squatting over Andrew's legs and Andrew was sitting upright. He put his hands on Andrew's chest and slid them up and out over Andrew's shoulders, gathering up his shirt in the process and slipping it back and off. At the moment where he got it down to Andrew's wrists behind him on the bed, he gave Andrew a quick kiss. Andrew followed suit, pushing John's shirt back over his shoulders and down his arms. But when he got down to John's wrists, he grabbed them firmly and pulled John down for another kiss. With the shirt having fallen off by now, Andrew pulled John down harder until he started to lose his balance and then twisted him sideways so he ended up on his back. "You got me," John laughed. "Now what are you going to do with me?" Andrew didn't reply, but got up on his knees and scooted farther down the bed until he was between John's legs. He took hold of one and bent it upward until John's foot was conveniently in reach. He took hold of the top of his sock with both hands and slowly peeled it off. Andrew leaned down to sniff it. It was not unlike John's normal aroma, for which Andrew was grateful. He was also happy that John obviously took care of his feet and toenails. He breathed in deeply before he began to kiss John's toes, which gradually became licking, until finally, he was sucking on them. Andrew was shocking himself at this point. He had never thought about feet outside of keeping his nails clipped, but in his bid to slow things down tonight, he discovered he kinda liked it. At least for John. He wasn't sure he'd bother to care about anyone else's though. It was surprisingly intimate, and his crotch throbbed mercilessly while John moaned. He could tell this wasn't going to be a one-time thing. When he was satisfied with his work, he naturally turned to the other foot and repeated it. He never would have thought he'd be willingly sucking on a guy's toes, but here he was. And loving it. He finally felt he was done, and set John's foot back down on the bed and looked at John. He was, of course, grinning. "I didn't take you for a foot guy," he said with a bit of surprise in his voice. "Me neither," Andrew confessed. "But it seemed the right thing to do." "I'm proud of you," John said. "And as a reward, you're going to see what it's like to have it done to you now." "I don't know..." Andrew replied doubtfully�-fully recognizing the double standard in his head even as he said it. "I know you don't, but here is your chance to find out. If for some reason you actually don't like it, let me know and I'll stop. No harm or judgment. But you'll never know if you don't try, right?" "I suppose," Andrew admitted. "Okay." They switched places and John mimicked Andrew's actions exactly one by one at a slow and deliberate pace. It turned out that he enjoyed receiving at much as giving. He was proud of himself for overcoming his nervousness and reticence in letting John proceed. And once again happy to have John push his boundaries. It was even more intimate to have his man kiss his toes than it was for him to kiss John's. And the licking, while weird at first, was not unpleasant. The sucking seemed even more strange to him, but he did like it. His cock throbbed in response as if living vicariously through his toes. In fact, he was quite aware that there was a rather large wet spot at his crotch by this point. He wasn't embarrassed about it though since John's condition was similar. When John was finished, he met Andrew's eyes. "So what's the verdict? Did you enjoy it?" "It was weird at first, but yeah." "I was going to have to call you out if you'd said anything different," John teased. "It was HARD to miss your reaction down below." Andrew gave John a good-natured punch in the gut for that one. "Ow," said John, feigning injury. "But just to show there are no HARD feelings, I'm going to make it up to you now." This time, John dodged the half-hearted jab Andrew threw in his general direction before he scooted back and leaned down to kiss Andrew's belly button and work his way ever so slowly down. His tongue edged under Andrew's waistband while he smothered the open skin with kisses. It wasn't long before he moved down to the cloth covering Andrew's pride. He licked and chewed and gummed at it gently and thoroughly. Keeping the pace consistent with their earlier endeavors, he teased a lot before he finally opened just the top button and resumed his work. The zipper was next, with more attention paid. Andrew's well-soaked briefs were accessible now, and John knew exactly how to take advantage of that fact as he had Andrew squirming and moaning. Just to keep things interesting, John gave Andrew's rod an occasional nip through the thin material. John pulled Andrew's jeans down about halfway to his knees and started working on his legs, kissing, licking, and "munching" as he went. Andrew got especially worked up while John went for his inner thighs. Because his jeans weren't even down to his knees yet, he couldn't spread his legs apart. This did not stop John from his licking and kissing, and he often had to grind his head between Andrew's legs for his tongue to reach those hard-to-reach places. The extra stimulation of John's head grinding into Andrew's balls and the scruff on his chin against Andrew's smooth skin drove him crazy. The intensity was eased a little bit when the jeans moved lower down. Still amazing, but Andrew was no longer worrying about whether he was going to inadvertently shoot his load inside his shorts. By the time his jeans were around his ankles, Andrew was in a relaxed state of bliss. He discovered his knees were not the most stimulating spots on his body (no surprise there, really). John's best efforts were for naught at that point. But John noticed and stopped trying after a while, choosing instead to focus on Andrew's calves, which were much more responsive than Andrew had imagined. John kissed and licked his way around them before he found that biting them lightly brought Andrew to life again. Pleased with his discovery, he dove in with full gusto and nipped and chewed with abandon. The jeans were finally tossed aside, and John tongued his way back up Andrew's body hitting the highlights before ending with another long drawn out kiss. "Like that?" John asked gently. "Heck yes!" Andrew exclaimed. "And now I get to do you!" And he did, spending as much time on John as John had on him. By the time he was finished, all the licking and kissing had John looking like he had just stepped out of the shower. But they weren't done yet. For the last article of clothing, Andrew decided to be a little more forward. With a sodden John lying below him on the bed, Andrew took hold of his boxers, whisked them off quickly without fanfare, and tossed them away. There, standing out proudly from a thick nest of curly dark golden hair, stood John's straight and fleshy deep red cock, begging for attention. It would have to wait. Andrew nuzzled around it, but only touched it incidentally. He kissed and licked the now very salty skin below its camouflage and sucked in as much of the dense aroma of sweat and pre-cum as he could breathe in. He teased John's heavy plums mercilessly with his tongue, saturating them with spit and drool until they too were soaked and sagging on the bed. As for that fuck pole, Andrew only spared it a quick swipe of the tongue to savor the pre-cum that was leaking from it. Andrew left John panting with excitement and anticipation. "Okay," he announced authoritatively. "Time to swap." John managed to rouse himself and took the position. Just as Andrew had done, he took hold of Andrew's little briefs and whipped them off in one quick motion. Then he looked at Andrew and with just the barest glimmer of a dirty smile, he dove down and devoured Andrew's crotch. He attacked it with a voracity that made Andrew's efforts seem mundane by comparison. In no time, Andrew was moaning, gasping, and screaming in rapid succession. All while John ignored the very prominent spire in the middle that was dribbling a steady stream of pre-cum as John worked. Andrew couldn't handle it anymore. "Please," he gasped. "Suck my cock, jack it, anything," he pleaded. "I don't think so," John said thoughtfully. "It looks like it really wants to go inside something, and who am I to deprive you of that?" Andrew looked at him hopefully. "Of course, I want the same thing," he continued, swatting Andrew's ass. "But we're doing this as equals today, and I don't want you to cum first." Andrew was clearly at war with himself while trying to decide what to do to make both happen. "But I do think I have a solution that I've been wanting to try with you." "Anything," a desperate Andrew replied. "Anything?" "Yes, anything," Andrew repeated. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had the fleeting observation that this wasn't how he'd intended to wrap up the evening, but he was too far gone to care by now. "Then come with me," John commanded. They climbed off the bed and John grabbed some lube with one hand and Andrew's cock with the other before leading him downstairs to the living room. John lubed up both cocks with a minimum of strokes until they were both dripping. "Okay, I want you on the floor with your back against the front of the couch and your ass in the air. Got it?" "Yes, sir." John grinned at his response. "Then what are you waiting for?" Andrew quickly got into position with his ass up and his legs splayed out. "Damn, you're sexy," John growled. He moved to stand between Andrew's legs with one of his legs bent on the couch and the other on the floor. Andrew watched as John pointed Andrew's cock up toward the ceiling with one hand and then slowly lowered himself. Just as his cock made contact with John's ass, he felt John's thumb press against his own opening. `Oh yeah,' thought Andrew. `Tease my hole while I fill yours!' John paused as they both willed their asses to relax. Then he dropped himself lower with a deliberate speed: not too fast and not too slow. Just steady and sure. A moment later, Andrew suddenly realized it was no thumb at his threshold: Just as his dick went inside John, his tunnel was stretched wide with John's tool. They were literally fucking each other. ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :) Also, if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-38

Date: Tue, 07 Feb 2023 01:03:11 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man witth the Jeep, Chapter 38 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 38 "I suppose you can stick with that if you want, but Bill really is okay too," said Bill. "I only tend to be Mr. Fletcher on weekdays before 4pm." "Of course! Bill it is!" Johnny confirmed once he had recovered from his surprise. "Excellent! So, what's the scoop here?" John outlined the equipment they had and the various aspects he wanted Bill to monitor. "It shouldn't be too hard, really," he said after the briefing. "We don't mess with Joe's stuff unless absolutely necessary." "Probably a good idea," Bill chuckled. "He can get cranky sometimes." "Ah! So you know him!" "Indeed," Bill chuckled wryly. "Not super well, but you should see him on game nights when someone messes up his strategy. Sometimes we throw him just to get a reaction," he laughed. "Sounds like him," John chuckled. "Did he go over what kind of event this is?" Bill's confidence faded ever so slightly. "Yeah. I've never been to one of these kinds of things, but it's all good. The tech stuff doesn't change regardless, right?" "Not at all." "Then I should be good. I suppose it will probably actually help that it's not really my thing, so I won't get distracted. I'll be fine." "Great!" John replied. "Once you get all set up, you'll probably have some time to kill, so feel free to explore if you like. There are a few short trails around here and I've already let Mabel know you are welcome to whatever you'd like from the diner too." "That's very generous," Bill answered. "Thank you." "My pleasure! And if you need anything, just let me know." John swapped numbers with Bill before turning to Andrew again. "Ready to go?" "Sure!" They made their way back down the stairs before John paused. "Okay, my agenda is complete. What do you want to do next?" "Hmm..." began Andrew thoughtfully. "I'll be hungry soon, but did you say there were short trails around here?" "Yep!" "How short is `short?'" "So short I can't call them hikes. I can barely say `trail' with a straight face they are so short." "Then let's check out one of those." "You got it!" They made their way back outdoors and John led Andrew to the left toward the edge of the clearing where a worn path could be seen snaking through the trees. It was a pleasant path that was used enough to be visible, but not enough to be considered a thoroughfare. It reminded Andrew more of an animal watering track than anything else. It meandered around thickets and over or under trees along the way. The dappled light flickering through the tree cover added an almost surreal effect to their unhurried walk. They went down into dells, over small hills, and around clusters of boulders. It was so relaxing to just go with no agenda. They chattered away pleasantly as they walked, but the conversation wasn't important, so it kind of went in one ear and out the other as far as Andrew was concerned. Andrew let John lead for no reason other than it was easier to watch him from behind than it would have been from ahead. The filtered light did wonderful things to John just as it did to the woods they were in. The light playing in his hair gave him a slight halo effect of gold that flickered with the blowing of the breeze, which Andrew found mesmerizing. The dreamy walk with this fantasy man had its expected result, and Andrew grew less and less interested in walking and more interested in other things. "Can we just sit for a minute?" he finally asked. "Sure!" John agreed. "Are you tired already?" "No, I just want to soak it in a bit before it's over." "We can do that. There's a good spot just ahead." "Cool." A few minutes later, the path wound around some big rocks taller than they were, and John announced they had arrived. "Okay..." began a skeptical Andrew even as John took hold of his shoulders and turned him around to look back the way they had come. "Oh!" The rocks they had just come around actually formed a rough V shape. The outer edges were pretty much vertical, but between them was a stepped crease that grew wider as it rose. Inside the recess, there were several "steps" that started out very tiny and shallow at the bottom getting increasingly deep and wide the higher they went. "Did your family carve those?" "No," John chuckled. "These were here before we were. I have no idea if someone made them or if they are another example of Nature's mysterious wonder, but I like them either way." He bounded up to the step about five feet from the ground and sat on it. "You coming? You were the one who said he wanted to sit down," he teased. "Yeah," confirmed Andrew. "Just a sec." He leaned down to look closely at some of the smaller steps to see if he could work out if they were carved or worn. After a few minutes, he resigned himself to the realization that there was no way he was going to figure it staring at them. They were just too old. "Find what you were looking for, Professor?" John teased. "Almost," Andrew said good-naturedly. He straightened up and found himself looking right between John's legs. "I was hoping to solve your mystery, and you know how I just love bringing mysteries out into the light for everyone to see." "Uh huh." Andrew could smell John's aroma from where he stood, and that was that. He reached out to cup John's hefty bulge and squeeze it gently. "I see," said John with a smile. "Mystery, is it?" Andrew leaned in for another long whiff of the package he was about to open. "Not for long." He was so close, he couldn't help opening his mouth and trying to get John's manhood inside. He failed, but not for lack of effort. He twisted his head around to try different angles and worked to open his jaw more. It was of no use: there was just too much John-Bulge to get his lips around without taking off those pants. Not one to admit failure, Andrew didn't stop. John's jeans were soon soaked in front and the bulge grew ever more pronounced thanks to Andrew's efforts. John ran his fingers through Andrew's hair and stroked his head in encouragement and appreciation. It finally got to the point that John was uncomfortable trapped inside his denim cage. "Okay, bucko, time to ease off a bit." In a tiny fit of frustration, Andrew nipped at John's package, drawing a yelp from John. "Hey!" he said, pushing Andrew back. Andrew was having none of that and locked his arms around John's waist so he couldn't be stopped. He did change tactics though and started to lick and nip just above John's waistband. "Mmmm," growled John, who leaned back once he realized there was no dissuading Andrew. Andrew unlocked his arms and let his hands roam over John's body under his shirt, stroking his back, his waist, up to his shoulders, and down his arms while he continued to nibble and lick John's midsection. While one hand stopped in the middle of John's back, the other slithered around front and stroked his fuzzy chest. "Mmmm," moaned John. "That feels so good!" Andrew kept at his ministrations with enthusiasm. He began to flick and tweak John's nipples while French kissing his belly. This drew a laugh out of John: "That tickles," he protested half-heartedly. But Andrew could feel John's member throb thickly under his chin, so he continued to tease/torture John with glee. Eventually he couldn't wait any longer and attacked the buttons on John's fly one by one enjoying the drama of the gradual freeing of his prize. He soon had peeled John's outerwear back as far as he could, John obligingly lifted his hips so Andrew could yank them off and toss them behind him. John's pole had worked its way down one leg of his wet boxers and the head stuck out past the fabric, throbbing and dripping. Andrew's tongue snaked out and licked the tip, drawing out John juice in a long droopy thread as he pulled away. His reward was more from the source. He put his lips around the head and tried to suck more of that delicious substance from within John as if his dick was a straw. He made John gasp from the vacuum he created in his zeal. John finally had to ask him to stop. "Dude," he cried. "I can't handle any more of that." Andrew obliged him this time, but of course he was far from finished with John. He promptly switched to deep throating the meaty tool in front of him. By now, he was getting used to opening his mouth big enough to handle the job well, no longer scared of dislocating his jaw as he did so. He made love to the man before him with his smoothest and most sensual blow job yet. John was squirming and moaning like crazy by now, in complete thrall of the mouth on his dick. He had a slightly dazed expression when Andrew finally pulled off. Andrew looked up at him and they locked eyes before Andrew declared that he wanted to be impaled on John's cock again. John nodded. He would have done anything for Andrew in that moment, but this was easily what he wanted most himself. Andrew stripped off his clothes, revealing his still hairless body to his enamored boyfriend, whose smile managed to look both completely loving and a little bit goofy. Andrew climbed up to the step above John's, turned around so he faced outward, and straddled John by bracing his feet against the sides of the V in the rock. It wasn't quite the splits, but it was very close, and his ass was in perfect position. John licked his fingers and teased Andrew's hole open a little bit. Andrew concentrated on loosening his muscles as he settled downward and paused when he felt John's solid tip kiss his rosebud. It was still slick from the blow job and still seemed to be leaking pre-cum, so he screwed up his courage and slowly slid himself down. He involuntarily gasped as he went. He may be getting more used to it, but John was still one thick man! He settled all the way down, willing himself to accommodate this huge invader. He could feel himself opening up. So could John. It was all he could do to not go for it immediately, but he waited until he could feel the vise-like grip on his cock loosen up just a bit. Then he took a firm hold of Andrew's hips and lifted him up until only the tip remained and then drew him back down. "Yes," breathed Andrew. Taking that as his cue, John picked up the pace and worked Andrew's ass on his fuck pole. Up, DOWN, up, DOWN, up, DOWN� They were both clearly in heat by now and they humped with abandon there in their own little world, oblivious to the gentle sun beaming down at them, the sweet cool breeze blowing over their increasingly sweaty bodies, and the solid rock providing the anchor for their passion. Too soon, John could feel the surge coming. "I can't hold back any longer," he cried. "I'm going to�" Andrew beat him to the punch and started shooting, his cum shooting high and far even as it was flung in every direction from the pounding John was giving him. Andrew's ass tightening up sped John's release and it was mere seconds later that he grunted and held Andrew all the way down and shot his seed deep into Andrew's ass. There was no mistaking it this time: Andrew very clearly felt the huge load he was being injected with. This has got to be the biggest load he had pulled from John yet, he thought with satisfaction. John continued to shudder and spurt beneath him until Andrew felt like he could almost taste the sperm at the back of his throat. John let go of Andrew's hips and reached both arms around his chest to hug him tight. He gently kissed Andrew's shoulder, neck, and ears as they descended from that exquisite high. "Wow," breathed Andrew. "That was amazing," John agreed. They sat there like that for a few more minutes enjoying the closeness they shared with each other before Andrew finally had to give his legs a break from the tension of being stretched out like they were. "I'm kind of surprised I was able to do that," he confessed. "Especially for that long. I bet I'll feel it tomorrow though." "I'm sure you will," John agreed. "But it was so hot!" "Yeah, it was," Andrew confirmed. He had turned around by now and was facing John. "It looks like even the memory keeps you going," John teased when he saw Andrew was still hard. "You know me," Andrew said, trying not to blush. "Yes, I do. And you are amazing." Andrew did blush at that. It didn't take Bill long at all to get the feel for the equipment and double check the feeds were all working properly. He looked at his watch. 'Almost two hours to kill,' he thought. 'What to do?' He decided to grab a bite to eat even though he wasn't quite hungry. By the time he got outside, though, he thought twice. He had plenty of time to eat, and it was perfect weather. 'It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful day,' he thought. 'And aren't I always saying I spend too much time inside? I'll just do a quick walkabout first.' He did a quick survey and thought he could make out the beginnings of a path to his right, so he ambled in that direction. It was a pleasant little path and he let his mind wander a bit as he strolled. John had seemed familiar, but he couldn't place him. John's reaction clearly said he was recognized on the spot, but luckily the conversation didn't go back the other way leaving him grasping at straws. Who knows? He had been at the school for more than twenty years now, and there was no way to remember everyone. John seemed old enough that it was probably a long time ago anyway. He was grateful that the reaction wasn't a negative one, just one of surprise. He always tried to be nice and attentive to the kids, so that was encouraging at least. His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of pants dropping out of the sky just in front of him. What was this? He brought himself up short and looked around. He had only been half paying attention as he went, but now he could clearly make out some odd sounds just ahead. What was that? Slurping? A gasp? Curious, he crept forward to see what it was, trying to stay hidden behind the underbrush. He only had to take a few steps to see that it was John and that other kid (what was his name again?) that he had met earlier. John was perched on top of some rocks and the kid was�oh! Bill had been happily married for twenty-five years and considered himself unequivocally straight. He had seen gay porn clips, of course, but they did nothing for him, so he just dismissed it. This was different. He knew he should turn around, walk away, and leave them in peace, but somehow, he couldn't pull himself away. He was riveted in fascination. Guiltily, he realized he must be something of a voyeur. He watched John, enraptured in bliss as the kid bobbed his head in front of him until he suddenly stopped. He could see them trade a look and recognized it as one he and his wife would share at special moments. Then the kid stood up straight, peeled off his clothes and started climbing up the rock. When he turned around, Bill could see he was completely bald below the neck. And hard as a rock. On impulse, Bill looked over at John's tool and then tried not to feel a bit jealous at how thick it was. Nothing to be ashamed of there, for sure. And the kid was well hung too... Then the kid turned around and straddled the gap in the rocks with his long legs. Well, that's something you don't see every day! The smooth and lanky kid was spread wide and had his behind dangerously close to that thick dick of John's. It looked even bigger next to the skinny little ass hovering above it. Could that really work? How could something so big fit into that little hole? As he watched, he discovered it could. The kid had lowered himself right onto it. In fact, it looked like he had taken the whole thing. He could tell from his face that he was feeling...full. And Bill could tell from his ramrod-straight pecker sticking out that he was enjoying it. He watched as John gripped the kid's hips and took control of the pace, working the kid's ass up and down his cock. They both had looks of utter bliss on their faces. Bill looked down and discovered he was stroking his own hard dick. He couldn't remember the last time he was quite this hard. He almost stopped he was so startled, but then he glanced back at the men on the rocks and unconsciously went right back to it. They were really going at it now, moaning and grunting and panting. He watched the kid start shooting, flinging cum around everywhere. Right after, he heard John roar and hold the kid down. Even though the kid was in front of him, Bill could tell John was cumming from the tensing of his body and the expression on his face. He looked again and he could clearly see that the kid was still impaled on that impossibly thick cock. Then he saw something else: a thick stream of milky white dripping down from between John's cock and the kid's ass. Damn! With that, he shot his own load all over the bushes in front of him. Not just a dribble and a few spurts, but a full arching volley. 'How could this be so hot?' Bill wondered. 'I'm straight, for crying out loud! Aren't I...?' ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or suggestions for where this story should go :)

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-60

Date: Fri, 19 Jul 2024 21:03:19 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 60 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 60 Andrew's heart stopped for a split second before he realized it was just a hawk that was much closer than he was used to with remarkably coincidental timing. Still, even knowing that didn't mean his adrenaline was quick to subside. John's tense defensive posture made him look ready to pounce at anything and betrayed the fact that it had jarred him too. Andrew was reminded of John's military background and decided right then and there that John was not someone he wanted to startle. "You okay?" John asked him. "Yeah." "All right." After pausing for a minute to regain their equilibrium, they went inside. The front room was mostly empty, but there were a few pieces of furniture that were at least a decade old. There was a long plain couch along one wall, an upright piano with accompanying bench, and a couple half-empty bookcases. There were two nondescript country-themed framed art pieces on the wall as well: one of a field of flowers with an old windmill in the background and one of a no-nonsense white farmhouse with a dirt road leading to a classic red barn in the background complete with rooster weathervane on top. "Whoa, this looks familiar, but it feels different since last time I was here," John commented. "Of course, there was more stuff and people last time, so maybe that's why." Andrew felt he had either gotten used to John's interesting spaces or perhaps it was due to the dim lighting, but even with the lack of furniture, the room was smaller than Andrew anticipated. Not that it was tiny, but judging by the outside of the house, he expected it to be somewhat larger. Off to the right side of the room was an odd mini hall. "What's this?" he asked John. "I'm not really sure. The doors were always closed and locked, and we weren't allowed in here." "Doors?" "Yeah..." John replied uncertainly as they walked toward the opening. "Ah! Here they are! They just fold flat against the walls here." "Ah!" They followed it into a small room. It was empty, but had a big bay window on one side and a wall of built-in shelving on the opposite side. "Apparently an office," Andrew observed. "A very private office," he added a moment later with a smile. As they retraced their steps back to the front room, Andrew felt the house had a sad and almost haunting atmosphere. It was probably just the combination of knowing the history of the previous tenants, the dim light filtering in through terribly dirty windows, and the disquieting birdcall, but it was still tangible. He was sure that a good cleaning and being able to turn on some lights would go a long way to dispelling the aura. This time, they went through the other doorway, which led to a tiny eight-sided room with vertical wood paneling and a doorway in every other wall. "What the...?" "Yeah, this is a weird one," John explained. "That door leads to the dining room and kitchen, that one goes to the bedrooms, and this one is a half bath if I remember right." He pushed open the door, and sure enough, a toilet and small sink shone in the glare of the flashlight. "This sure isn't an open floor plan, is it?" Andrew asked with a laugh. "No, this was built long before that was a thing." "Clearly." They decided to investigate the dining room and kitchen next. The dining room had dark wainscotting all the way around and was long enough for ten people to comfortably dine at the big table still sitting in the middle of the room. The far corners of the room were cut off with glass-fronted display cabinets displaying fine china. The entire left wall was a bank of tall windows with another set on the far wall between the display cases. Remarkably, all the glass seemed to have made it through the years intact. There were two humble chandeliers above the table and a mildly coffered ceiling above. "I think I see where their priorities lay," commented Andrew. "I told you they were great hosts," John reminded him. "Yes, you did. I just had no idea." In the middle of the wall to the right was the door into the kitchen. They found that to be somewhat more disjointed. There was a metal table in the middle of the room, and to the right was a collection of cabinetry that looked like they had been lifted from somewhere else and just propped into place. Behind the table on the facing wall was a long counter with a sink in the middle right under the middle of three windows. On the left side of the room was a small bump out that looked like a really deep bay window, presumably for a breakfast table. The rest of that wall and the section next to the door in which they entered was another mismatched corner of various loose cabinets and a couple token small sections of countertop. To the other side of the entry door, an old refrigerator hummed. John reached to open the door before Andrew stopped him. "What are you doing? Don't open that!" "Why not?" "Because it will reek, Numb Nuts!" "`Numb Nuts'?" John repeated, ignoring the fridge for now. "Yeah, I don't know where that came from," Andrew confessed. "Always full of surprises," John commented with a smile. They re-traced their steps through the dining room and back into the weird antechamber so they could go explore the remaining doorway. That door opened into a short hallway that reminded Andrew of the entry hall of Journey's Inn that John's cousin Brady ran. It had two doors on the left, one at the end, and a staircase going up along the right side with another door underneath it. The main difference between the two buildings was at the base of the stairs. Instead of opening into the "bar" room at the Inn, this place had a large window that looked into the back yard. It didn't take long to find the doors led to two boring empty rooms with a bathroom between them, so they soon found themselves descending the stairs they found behind the fourth door. They were solidly constructed, but proved rough and creaky as they went down into the gloom. The flashlights seemed out of their league trying to brighten the space. It was obviously unfinished, but the ceiling height was reasonably high for a basement. The light came across random stacks of boxes, some old trunks, a lonely bicycle, and who knew what else as their beams flashed around the room. Andrew was ready to leave about the same time he reached the bottom step, but remembered to investigate the wood nearby for any signs of rot or termite damage. Amazingly, the wood looked to be in great shape. "Okay," he announced. "I think that's good for today. I'm ready to head back up." "Then let's go," John replied. They naturally went up the second flight of stairs next. While not as elaborate as the Inn's exquisite Victorian workmanship, these were very well built with only a couple slightly creaky steps. At the top of the stairs, the landing led to another empty room and another bathroom before Andrew swung open a set of double doors into an oddly shaped room. Clearly the master bedroom due to its larger size, it was curiously made in the shape of an "L" with a short little leg that went back to the right. Unlike the other bedrooms, this one still had furniture in it and in fact looked like it was abandoned in a hurry instead of actually moved out of. The large four-post bed in the middle still had messy covers rumpled on top and clothes on the floor next to it. The dogleg to the right side ended under a dormer as something of a reader's nook with a comfy chair, a small table with a lamp on it, and a little bookcase. On the other side of the bed was a folding table and a couple chairs. Andrew suspected that Mr. Bradshaw had spent much of the last days with his wife up here caring for her because there was an old hot plate and a bunch of kitchen stuff here as well. It made him feel sad to know that she had withered away up here in this strange room with her loyal husband powerless to reverse her disease. Andrew wasn't sure if it was the sentimentality of it all or the gathering darkness, but he had to mentally brace himself a little bit so he didn't get depressed. "You okay?" asked John when he noticed Andrew seemed a little deflated. "Yeah, I'll be fine." "Come here." Andrew moved closer to John, who put his arms around him and hugged him close. Andrew melted into the embrace. "Do you think this place has bad luck?" "Why?" asked a surprised John. "Because Mrs. Bradshaw died?" "Because she died here." "How do you know that?" "I can feel it," Andrew said softly. "Well the answer is no: I don't think this is a bad luck place. I think this is a place that needs a little love to bring it back to glory." "But what if-�" "Nope!" John said assertively. "No what-ifs! I'm in this with you and we can tackle anything together, you hear me?" Andrew nodded his head against John's shoulder. John hugged Andrew tight a little longer before reaching down to gently turn his chin up and kiss him. Not a fleeting peck on the lips, but not a ravenous hormone-driven tongue drilling either. A firmly gentle kiss that started on Andrew's eyes, trailed down his nose, and finally landed on his trembling mouth. He eventually pulled back just a little from the kiss. "We're together now," he repeated. "Don't forget that, okay?" "Okay," Andrew whispered. He still felt like they were being watched by some sad spirit, but it mattered less and less as John continued to kiss and hug him tight. John stroked his back comfortingly, and it surprised neither of them when their bodies responded to the close contact. The kiss grew in intensity until they were making out with all the vigor inside them. John's hands kneaded Andrew's ass, and Andrew's hands explored John's broad back. A few short steps later, Andrew felt his calves against the frame of the huge bed behind him. John lifted him up onto the edge of the soft mattress and pulled off Andrew's shirt so his kisses could continue down his chest and stomach. While his kisses continued, John's hands deftly opened the snap and zipper of Andrew's jeans, and when his kisses reached Andrew's waist, he firmly grabbed the waistbands that were in his way and yanked them down and up. They all jammed together at Andrew's ankles since he was still wearing his shoes, but it didn't matter: John held them up and Andrew's perky little behind was bared. John wasted no time in diving into that little crevice with his tongue and stubble, driving Andrew wild with the alternating smooth and rough textures titillating his hole. Andrew reached down and grabbed John's head as best as he could to pull him in, as if John wasn't close enough yet. But John was already there and poking his tongue into Andrew's hot box. He soon had Andrew writhing on the bed with his ministrations and knew the time had come. John stood up straight, opened his fly, and probed that trim little valley with his hard leaking schlong, getting it nice and slick with his pre-cum until Andrew was primed and ready. "You want this, boy?" "Yes, John! Give me that big ol' cock!" "Alright, my love," John growled, as he slowly and steadily pushed himself into Andrew's tight insides. Andrew gasped a little bit and had to consciously force himself to relax. It had been a little while since he had taken that thing. Too long, he noted to himself. With a subtle whump, John's meaty head made it inside before Andrew clamped down anew around it. John paused. It was so tight he could feel both his heartbeat and Andrew's pulse through his dick as they held still there for a moment. With effort, Andrew was able to relax again and John gently began massaging Andrew's opening with the flare of his cock head. John had not stopped pre-cumming, so it was soon all slicked up again and he was able to go deeper and deeper. Still holding Andrew's legs straight up by his ankles, John started really pounding him. In and out, in and out, faster and harder and deeper with every thrust. Frustrated by not being able to grab onto John from this position, Andrew reached back to help pull his ass cheeks open to the hot onslaught of his man. John was really going at it now, and Andrew was loving every delicious sensation coming from his bum. Tired of straining his fingers, he grasped his own hard leaking tool and started to stroke in time to John's thrusts. In almost no time, he brought himself to the brink. He did so quickly enough that he knew he was about to blow and had to abandon his original plan of edging until John was finished. Instead, he erupted in thick milky jets onto his own face, chest, and stomach. The cream was so hot it felt like it was burning his skin. His ass was on fire too from John's pounding. But as usual, he couldn't help tightening his sphincter when he shot his load, so John froze, and with an accompanying roar, his burning load coated Andrew's insides barely a moment later. Having spent himself, John gave a few more gentle strokes before pulling out with a plop from Andrew's sore red hole. He leaned down and licked up what cum escaped and sucked out as much more as he could before he kissed each cheek and began to roll Andrew's pants back up his legs. Andrew started to struggle to sit up, until John put a hand on his stomach and told him to wait. "Mind if we cuddle a bit first? Besides..." John lifted his hand to his mouth and licked it clean of Andrew's cum. "Can't let this go to waste, you know," he joked before he leaned down and licked the entirety of Andrew's torso, neck, and face clean of sweat and cum. When he finished, he leaned in to give Andrew a probing kiss to make sure he didn't leave any behind inside Andrew's mouth. Andrew sighed in contentment. "Together," John said softly. Andrew rolled over on top of him and reciprocated with an even longer and deeper kiss. "Together," he said, smiling. John smiled back up at him. "Forever." Andrew laid down on top of John, wishing he could feel that perfectly golden-red fur against his smooth skin, but satisfied to feel the heat coming through his shirt. He sighed happily. "See?" John said. "All this place needs is a little lovin' again and it will be great." "I hope so," Andrew murmured. "Okay, don't fall asleep on me," John teased. "We should probably head out while there's still a smidgeon of light to see by." Andrew groaned. "You know I'm right," John responded, swatting Andrew's butt. "Get up." Andrew did as requested. Or was that ordered? Hmmm... He slid his shirt on and climbed out of the monstrous bed. It had to be a king size, because it was the largest Andrew had ever seen. He still felt like there was another presence in the room, but it didn't seem scary anymore, so he was probably just imagining it. They made their way outside and headed back to the car after re-locking the front door. "So, what do you think?" John asked as they walked. "I think I like it," Andrew answered. "It felt really...I don't know...sad, I guess. Maybe it's just because I know some of the history of the place. What are your thoughts?" "I got the gloominess too, but that's because this is the first time I've been here where it wasn't a party with tons of people around. Granted, the last one was a wake for his wife, so it was a little strained, but there was still a lot of people around and kids getting into mischief." "You mean your family?" "Well yeah, but it wasn't just us. Usually there were at least five families at a time. We kids would be outside running around in these woods as much as we could unless it was raining." "No wonder they needed that big kitchen and dining room!" "Ha ha. To be fair, they built the house before we ever came over to visit. In fact, they used to come out to the campground and visit us at first. That's how they found the property. But once they built the house, they always had us over instead." "That's cool." "They were cool people. I should say `are' I suppose, but Mr. Bradshaw never had anyone over after Mrs. Bradshaw died." "I see," replied Andrew slyly. "So having people over makes you cool?" "C'mon, you know that's not what I meant!" "Good, because in my view, he's awfully cool to let me lease/buy all this for what he's charging me." "He is," John agreed. "He's good people." "You've already said that," Andrew pointed out. "It's still true." "Okay." Andrew turned to take one last look at what could soon be his home and had to do a double take, because he could have sworn he saw a flicker of light in one of the upstairs windows. He looked hard at it for a moment, but there was no trace of any light now. Just an empty blackness. "You coming?" John asked, swinging around to see why Andrew wasn't right there with him anymore. That upstairs window reflected a little of John's flashlight when he turned, and Andrew breathed a big sigh of relief. He was definitely too tired to explore strange houses in the dark after a long day at work. His imagination was too crazy for that. "I already did!" he replied brightly. "Yes, you did!" They waded back to the car through all the tall grass. The house was long hidden by the trees now, but Andrew felt like it was still watching his every step with those blank empty window eyes... ********* What do you think should happen next? I look forward to hearing from you! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-41

Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2023 02:49:16 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 41 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 41 John looked Andrew directly in the eye. "Will this work?" "Yeah..." answered Andrew uncertainly. "Why?" "Just making sure," John assured him. "Is this the part where you spring some surprise on me?" "What?" John asked trying to look offended and failing miserably. "Me?" "Yes, you," Andrew laughed. "Everything is all so cloak-and-dagger this and aha-got-you that. "Okay, maybe I've played that card a little often," John admitted. "You think?" Andrew responded. "Well, let me make it up to you then," John said. "Please do," Andrew said as his heart began to flutter at the sexy man barely an inch away. "Gladly," John whispered. His hands slid back over Andrew's shoulders, down his back, and crossed at the waist, drawing Andrew even closer. "God, you're sexy," he breathed before he closed the small gap between them and gently kissed Andrew. Andrew melted. It was the perfect mix of soft and firm. Unhurried, but purposeful. Unlike many of their encounters, this one seemed suspended in time and not merely a momentary prelude to maximum intensity. A small part of Andrew's mind wondered if drugs were like this: every sense seemed amplified. He could feel the very texture of John's lips as they pressed gently against his own. Warmth radiated from John's arms into his own body. He wasn't quite sure if he was imagining things or if he really could make out the individual muscles of John's body as he was held so tightly. John's gut expanded and contracted with breath in perfect counterpoint to his own. It was surreal. It wasn't just his own heartbeat he heard through his ears, either. The rustling of their shirts as they brushed against each other. The quiet and subtle smacking and squishing of their lips in contact with each other. He also picked up the tiniest of growls coming from within John as they teased each other's tongues. Andrew could detect the slightest traces of rye, Thousand Island dressing, and Swiss cheese in John's mouth, but strawberry was definitely at the forefront. It seemed fitting for John somehow. He could also smell the strawberry, but that aroma couldn't compete with John's natural musk. It had nothing to do with cologne, but it wasn't at all offensive. It was just John. It had already come to represent acceptance, love, and safety to Andrew, and he reveled in it as he breathed in deeply. As their kiss lengthened and the sensations continued, John slowly drew Andrew closer to the bed until they were right next to the foot of it and then they sank down to sit on it. Neither wanted the kissing to stop, and so it didn't. Time was the only thing that didn't register to Andrew. At some point, John lay back on the bed, naturally pulling Andrew with him since he was still clamped within John's arms. They continued unabated. Not even the slightest thought occurred to Andrew about the way his body ended up twisted half on top of John and half sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off at weird angles. It didn't matter. All that mattered was his connection with John. When Andrew next became aware of his surroundings, he wasn't quite sure where he was. He could hear John's quiet snore beside him, but he couldn't make out much else. They were obviously on a bed, but it was equally obviously not one he was familiar with. It was pitch black, so there was nothing to be seen, but he did hear plenty of muted insect noises about. And was that an owl hooting? It slowly came back to him that they were in an RV at the Three Jacks. He didn't realize he could kiss his way to sleep, but that must have been what happened because he knew he was still wearing all his clothes. He decided "The Interminable Kiss" was at least as good as straight up sex. It was more romantic at least, he chuckled to himself. Absolutely zero regrets as far as that goes. Besides, they had had some really hot sex just a few hours ago anyway. A few hours before they got to the camper, he corrected in his mind. He had no idea what time it was, but night had obviously fallen. John was still asleep, so what had woken him up? That was when he could make out the squeaking. It wasn't technically any louder than the entomological cacophony, but it was much more rhythmic. He dismissed it as superfluous, but now that he was awake, the call of nature was loud. He carefully got up from the bed and stumbled as quietly as he could back through the bedroom door without disturbing John. He softly closed the door behind him and felt along the wall for the door into the head. It wasn't until he had closed that door that he started groping in the dark for the light switch. His bladder was screaming at him by this time, and he started to worry that he would find it in time. But then, by sheer fluke, he tapped it, and the lights came on. It hurt like the dickens. From pitch blackness to brilliant was too much and he instantly squinted it all out. He was tempted to turn the light back off, but knew he didn't have enough time to find the toilet in the dark even in this tiny space. He forced his eyes open in little bursts until they began to adjust. He found the toilet, flipped open the lid, dropped his pants, sat down (since there was no way he could properly aim while standing up without vision), and let loose. He just had to hope the walls were insulated enough for John to sleep through it, because there was no holding back now. That done, he pondered what to do next. The rush of the last few moments had woken him up enough that he knew it would be a bit before he could settle down again enough to go back to sleep. He didn't want to wake John up if he could help it, so he decided he'd step outside the RV for a minute. No sooner had he stepped out than he had second thoughts. Thanks to the moon and stars, it was not as dark as in the trailer, but it was a bit nippier than he expected. Luckily, he hadn't grabbed his jacket from the Jeep earlier, so he fished it out and put it on. Cold, of course. Ugh. Well, he'd just have to keep himself warm with a brisk walk down the lane. He'd only walked a few steps before he figured out where the squeaking he had noticed earlier was coming from. It was the camper right next to theirs. He could see it swaying side to side in sync with the rhythm of the creaking. It didn't take a genius to figure out what caused the rocking, and he smiled to himself. Someone�-or rather a couple someones-�were having some fun. Well good for them, whoever they were. He continued back down the way, but all the other trailers were dark and sleepy. It was a quiet night. Quiet in human terms, he corrected himself. In addition to the occasional hooting owl, rustle within the underbrush, and the breath of the light wind in the leaves, the bugs created quite a symphony. The crunching of his shoes on the graveled pavement added to it. Once he noticed it all, it seemed even louder. He fought off occasional fearful notions of imaginary stalking predators just beyond his view by deciding that there wouldn't be so much activity by the little animals if there were bigger ones around. He was not really an expert on this exact spot, but he just decided he'd use the Boy Scout basics he'd learned so many years ago. He made enough noise as he went to not startle other creatures along the way and made sure to keep an alert eye on his surroundings so he wasn't surprised either. He passed the last of the camp's RVs and eventually came upon one of the public restrooms that were sprinkled around the camp. He realized his bladder wasn't the only thing that needed emptying that night, so he went in to use the can. Unlike the outhouse farther up the mountain, this seemed like a normal restroom even after he walked in. A simple light above illuminated a few nice but plain sinks with mirrors above them on one side and a couple stalls and urinals on the other. He stepped into one of the stalls and did his business. There were no glory holes or obscene graffiti to be found, so he doubted this one had seen much action like that, but his mind wandered back to some of the truck stop porn he had seen or read along the way. A few scenes in particular surfaced, and he found himself hard as he finished up. He flushed and stood to pull up his pants before he paused and sat back down. He was hard and clearly alone, so why rush out? He recalled one story and put himself in it: He sat there in the stall as the deeply drawled voice over the CB had told him to be, waiting anxiously to find out if he was being hoaxed or not and if the voice fit with the man who was supposed to meet him here. He was jumpy and kept putting on and then immediately removing his shirt or pants as he waged a war of indecision of whether this was a good idea or not. He would decide it was stupid and start getting dressed only to decide he had gone this far already, so he might as well let it play out. He had done that seven times now. Then he heard it: the prescribed knock on the stall door softly rapping out the agreed pattern of three long knocks, three short ones, and three more long ones. He paused once more before sliding the latch open. The door swung in and for a split second, the man looked at the naked young man sitting before him with a look of lust in his eyes. He looked like he might lick his lips in his hunger, but he didn't. He wasn't very tall--much shorter than Andrew had expected, in fact-�but he was broad in the shoulders and had honestly-earned muscle mass to go with his beer gut. No gym rat, but a hard-working man. A hard-working trucker, complete with flannel shirt, dirty ball cap, and well-worn jeans. Andrew was happy he seemed to have all his teeth inside his very handsome face. He joined Andrew in the stall in an instant and re-latched the door. "Yeah, yer a fine little chicken, ain't ya?" the trucker drawled. Andrew had one last fight with the idea of running out as quick as he could before the man widened his stance a bit and unbuckled his belt. Andrew's attention was drawn directly there. "Well come on, boy," the man said. "Get to it. I know you wanna." Andrew reached out and undid the top button of the trucker's jeans. He could already smell that the driver hadn't showered recently. Which was a good thing as far as Andrew was concerned. He reached for the man's zipper only to discover there was no zipper. Button fly. Sexy, but a pain at the same time. It took much longer to open them than he wanted, but the man's aroma drove him on. He breathed deeply as he fought the buttons one by one until they all succumbed to his will. With both hands, he folded back the top of the man's jeans. Tired of waiting, the man put his hand firmly on Andrew's head and pulled him closer until his nose was lodged in the driver's crotch. "That's it, boy," he drawled. "Get in there and smell what a man's like." "Yes, sir," Andrew answered, although it only came out "mph shmrr." "Yer a fine one, boy," leered the horny trucker. "Yeah, you'll love my cock inside that little boy pussy of yours, yeah you will! Now show me how bad you want it and work on my dick." Andrew reached up and pulled down the man's (not so) tighty (yellowed) whiteys until his thick cock popped out and hit Andrew in the face with a thud. He drooled at it for a moment. It was hooded and gave the impression of being half cut since it didn't cover much of the head at all. But the important thing was the width. That sucker wasn't very long, but it was as big around as a can of Bud Lite. Andrew licked his lips and then dove onto it. He thought his jaw would break, but he tried to give this torpedo all the effort it deserved. He soon had much of it slicked up with his spit. "Okay, boy, now turn around so I can see that rosebud of yers." He did as he was told and could hear the trucker sigh in appreciation. "Yeah, boy, that's a hot little hole ya got there," he said. "Real nice. Nice and ready." The man spit into Andrew's crack and pried his ass cheeks apart. "Who-wee!" the main exclaimed. "Fine!" He pushed Andrew's rear down so it would line up with his turgid rod just right and then smeared his spit around with the tip, spitting several more times until he was satisfied. "All right, boy," he said finally. "Do yer hail Marys or find yer happy place or whatever, `cuz I'm goin' in!" And with that, he put his cockhead against the younger man's hole and started to push. "Ah!" exclaimed Andrew, from the pressure. "It's too late for all that now, boy. Yer getting' it come hell or high water." The pressure was intense. That cockhead was thick and blunt, and the man never let up his pressure. "Yow!" screamed Andrew when the head suddenly popped in. The man slapped Andrew's ass, which helped a very little bit as he continued his inexorable shove forward. Andrew broke into a profuse sweat and gasped for breath unsuccessfully trying to relax as the invader continued to drive inside him. He was being torn open and was sure he was going to need medical help after this. But the trucker never faltered. His dick was in and was going to be in all the way, and that was that. "Damn, boy," he growled. "You are TIGHT!" "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," whimpered Andrew. Then suddenly the forward momentum stopped. Andrew had never been so pleased that a cock wasn't longer. But it wasn't over. Not by a long shot. The driver started pulling out. Not tenderly in deference to the damage he may have done. Oh no: it was rather quick and the whole motion lasted but a split second before he pounded it all the way back in. "Ahhh!" cried Andrew. "Yeah, boy, I'ma drill you good now." And he did. Andrew just could not loosen up with his ass stretched so wide to accommodate the monster inside it. The trucker was either oblivious or just didn't care, because he pounded Andrew's ass mercilessly with his choad. Andrew was about to pass out before the trucker was finally satisfied. "Fuck yeah, boy, I'm gonna shoot yer ass so full of spunk you'll taste it fer a week!" And then he did. Andrew couldn't feel the load because his ass was half numb and half on fire, but the driver grunted loudly with every spurt as he continued to pound away at the tight little ass in front of him. "Damn, boy," he finally said as he yanked his spent dick out with a loud pop. "You are a fine chicken, make no mistake! Fuck!" Andrew didn't reply as he tried to catch his breath. The trucker folded his dick back into his underwear and re-fastened his jeans and belt. "I'll hit you up again next time I'm down here. Yeah, yer a right good time!" He slapped Andrew on the ass and left. Andrew finally turned around to close and re-latch the door, still shaking from the pounding he had just received. He had always preferred thick cocks to long ones, but this one was ridiculous. He knew he was probably bleeding inside, and he felt like he now had a hole where he used to have an ass. This one devastated him. As much as he liked a good choad, he knew there was no way he was going to tackle that one again�-not ever! He was wrong... Envisioning that scene, Andrew pumped his cock furiously until he blasted his load into the toilet bowl. It was a release for sure, and he felt the tension leave his body. Was this the first time he had shot a load without John present since they had become boyfriends? Somehow, he felt guilty. Like he had betrayed his man by jacking off. It was like he had cheated on him even though no one else was there. The tension he had just released came rushing back in an instant. Why had he done that? And now what? He put his pants back on and started his return trek. It wasn't like sex with John wasn't satisfying. Quite the opposite, actually: everything seemed intense, exciting, interesting, and it was fun to try new things even if they were unexpected or something he would have never done before. And the sensitivity and passion...just wow! But now he just got off on someone who wasn't anything like John. What did that say about himself subconsciously? Was he destined to want someone different from John? Was this relationship as doomed as he had feared from the start? He angrily kicked at the little pebbles on the road as he walked. What a mess I am, he thought morosely. It didn't even take another guy to cheat on John with. I did it all on my own. I'm such an asshole. The farther he walked, the more certain he became that this was a farce of the first magnitude. How dare he even pretend he could be a good boyfriend! He had indulged in imagining being married to John at some point in the future, but if this is how he handled himself when he wasn't literally with John, what hope was there really? He would just mess it up. He was bound to. Here was proof. It must be closer to dawn now, because he noticed that several of the RVs now had lights on as he walked past them and there were a few people walking toward him on the driveway, but he kept his head down and didn't acknowledge any of them. He was absolutely and unequivocally not up for social interaction right now. He was scum and he didn't need anyone else to know it. He dreaded what would happen when John realized his big mistake and saw what a loser Andrew really was. His goal was near: he was drawing close to his fifth wheel now. The big black camper with John asleep inside, oblivious to the fact that Andrew had left and cheated on him in the middle of the night. How would Andrew explain himself? He couldn't. There was no valid excuse. He walked up to the old Jeep... And kept on walking. ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :) Also, I have had trouble posting consistently lately, so if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-53

Date: Mon, 22 Apr 2024 21:47:34 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 53 Please consider donating something to support Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 53 John slowly stirred awake. Spending yesterday with Andrew had been so relaxing. It was nice not to have to have a plan and two or three contingencies lined up just in case. It was sheer joy just to make a simple breakfast, talk�even if it was about things he'd rather forget�and then putter the day away. The days he didn't have to leave the house were always a pleasure, and it recharged his batteries. And to do that with Andrew made it all the better. It gave him renewed hope that this could be the future for them. He knew Andrew hadn't finished micro-analyzing everything he shared with him as he inevitably would, but at least he hadn't run away screaming. Yet. John would answer the inevitable questions as they came honestly and without ambiguity. He was determined to make sure their relationship was grounded on a solid foundation without any lies that could erode it down the line. If it was too much for Andrew, John would rather find out sooner than later. He opened his eyes to look at the sleeping man beside him. In peaceful slumber, all the worries that he had such a hard time letting go of while he was awake were erased from his visage. He had to admit he was smitten with this adorable guy. And he was as lovely on the inside as he was on the outside. Before Andrew, he had been losing hope that he would find someone to bond with for the rest of his life. Most people were decent folks, but so many guys were like he used to be: egocentric, shallow, and/or carrying so much baggage they couldn't move. At this point in his life, he found it incredibly disappointing that so many people were stuck within their own paradigms. Not because they were evil or selfish, but more because they were unwilling to look outside themselves and challenge their own suppositions. He was done with that himself and didn't feel like he could honestly connect with anyone who wasn't on the same page. But here in this humble, kind, and curious soul lying across from him, he was pretty sure he'd found someone who could. Sure, he had shortcomings like everyone else, but this was someone who wasn't afraid to consider something just because it didn't instantly fit in with what he already knew. Or thought he knew. Watching him sleep was captivating. All the lines of worry and tension that were on constant call while he was awake were absent now. His pale hair was getting a little long, and some fell across his forehead. The combination made him look notably younger than he was. In this state, he could pass for a 19-year-old if he wanted to. John wouldn't apply the overused term "glow" to describe what radiated from Andrew, but "soft" fit the bill nicely. It was endearing, and John was absolutely certain he wasn't the only one who thought so. Andrew, being Andrew, might never see his own attractiveness, but it wouldn't be due to a lack of John's effort to get him to see it, he promised silently to himself. He drew his arm out of the covers to check the time. 7:36am. If the birthday party for Andrew's brother started at 10, he'd have to get going now or they would chance being late. Slowly and carefully so as not to disturb Andrew and let him get a little more sleep, John crawled out of bed and padded downstairs. He used the toilet and was instantly justified in his insistence on getting the quietest one he could find as he flushed. He doubted Andrew wouldn't hear it, but at least it wouldn't be a jolt from dreamland. He donned some clean boxers and started some coffee brewing before putting some water on to boil for hot cereal. He pulled out a couple plates and placed a banana and half a grapefruit on each one. He was reaching up to grab the box of oats from the cabinet when he felt Andrew's arms wrap around his waist. "Good morning," he said softly in John's ear. "Mmm! Good morning to you! How did you sleep?" "Really well, thanks." "Excellent! Is oatmeal okay with you for breakfast?" "Anything is fine," Andrew assured him. "Cool," John replied. "It'll be ready in just a few minutes." "Okay," said Andrew, pulling away. "I'm going to hit the bathroom first." "Just don't hit it too hard!" Andrew groaned as he walked. "It might be too early." "Sorry!" responded John lightly. A few minutes later, Andrew returned, wearing his underwear and a t-shirt. "Know what?" John asked him. "What?" responded Andrew guardedly. "You are so handsome!" Andrew blushed awkwardly. "I haven't showered yet..." "It doesn't matter," John asserted. "You still look amazing." "Thanks," mumbled Andrew. "If you want to have a seat, breakfast is served! Would you like some coffee?" "I usually don't, but maybe I will today." "No problem! Would you like cream or sugar?" "Definitely," Andrew answered boldly. "No straight up black brew for you, huh?" "Never. If I have to drink it, it's going to have to be doctored up until the taste of coffee is gone." "I forget how crabby you can be in the morning," John said with a grin. "Just hand me the mug already." "Here you are, good sir," John said with an overdone smile as he presented the steaming mug with a grand flourish. "Thanks," Andrew replied shortly. But John could see the effort it took for him not to laugh at his antics. "I figure we can have some breakfast and then head over for your brother's birthday together, if that sounds good to you," John offered. "I didn't really plan on staying the night, so I didn't bring anything with me," Andrew began doubtfully. "I should probably go home first and get ready there." "I probably have what you need right here," John suggested. "I doubt it," came the reply. "I need to shave, and I didn't bring deodorant, a toothbrush, or clean clothes." "I have shaving stuff, a stash of toothbrushes, and some spray deodorant." He offered. "I know you prefer the sticks, but it'll do in a pinch, right?" "And the clothes?" Andrew challenged. "Surely I have something that will work even if it's not quite as tailored as you like." "Hmm. We'll see." Truthfully, John was a little surprised at Andrew's crankiness. He hadn't been cranky before, but John took it as a good sign and chalked it up to Andrew letting his guard down a little more. It wasn't long before breakfast was finished and cleared, and the boys had cleaned themselves up with a shower and (in Andrew's case) a shave. John led Andrew to his closet under the stairs to help him find something to wear. While it was true that John was notably beefier than Andrew, some of his stuff was too small for him to wear anymore but too sentimental to donate to a shelter. Together, they rummaged through them and found enough to dress Andrew. He ended up with a loosely fitting light gray sweater over a white compression shirt that didn't compress anything at all on his slim frame and some faded old jeans that used to be black but had faded to patchy dark gray. The light patches emphasized certain bulging parts of John's body, which clearly made Andrew hesitant to wear them, but he was eventually won over with John's coaxing. Likewise, Andrew was not a fan of wearing boxers, so he eschewed John's trademark shorts for the only other option available: a jockstrap. Just because they didn't have time to mess around didn't mean they weren't responding to spending the morning together in their underwear and then showering together. They were both half-hard all morning. And while Andrew was forcing his equipment into the containment of the jock, John watched the straps tighten and frame his tidy butt as he worked. John was more than half hard by now and hoping he wouldn't distract Andrew and make them late to the party. He hated being late. He was relieved when Andrew began to don the jeans, hoping for a little visual respite to ebb his excitement. But even while he convinced Andrew they were fine and not too suggestive, his own cock told a different story. Andrew looked downright amazing in John's clothes. He somehow managed to hide all this from Andrew, which was good because he didn't want Andrew to ever feel self-conscious. But in the meantime, John was pretty worked up. He decided to wear heavier jeans himself in an effort to help restrain his wayward tool. It kind of worked as he resolutely avoided looking at Andrew in his jeans and thought of other things. They were soon walking the dim halls, down the worn stairs, and climbing into John's old BMW. John had just started to back out when Andrew surprised him with a question. "You have a bike too?" "Yeah," John answered as he maneuvered the little convertible under and through yet another arch toward the exit. "It used to be my dad's, until Mom made him get rid of it. She always hated it. "Actually, not always. She thought it was sexy when they first met. She used to love to ride around with him on it. But once they started having kids, she wouldn't let him ride anymore because it was too dangerous and she wanted to make sure he'd still be around to help her raise us. Of course she had a valid point, but he couldn't bear to part with it, so he stashed it at a buddy's place. "Eventually the buddy decided to move to Palm Springs and Dad had to find a new place for it. I was in the service then, so I took it off his hands. Bikes are great when you're in the military. We never talk about it when Mom is around though. She'd probably go ballistic on us both. I don't ride much anymore, and it needs an overhaul anyway, so it just sits there really. "Now, wanna tell me where we are going, or shall we spend the rest of the day here in the driveway?" "Oh! Yeah!" Andrew gave him the address, and John headed out. "Your dad still loves it?" "Loves what?" "The bike!" "Oh yeah! He'll always love it!" "I don't mean to pry, but how old is your dad?" "He's getting up there." "Can he still drive?" "Oh sure! Why do you ask?" "Maybe it's time to fix it up and give it back to him." "What makes you say that?" "Well, if your mom's big thing was having him around to be a dad, he's done that, hasn't he?" "Yeah," answered John slowly. "If that was the big reason, maybe she'll have a different opinion on the bike now." "I suppose it's possible." "And it's not like you ride it anymore either, apparently. If it were me, I'd get that thing as spiffed up as I could and give it back to him on their anniversary so they could re-live some good memories. Who knows? Maybe they'll join the Hell's Angels and become a hardcore biker couple." "I don't know about that," John laughed. "But that is a very good idea!" "Thank you." "Speaking of families and good ideas, is there anything you want from me for this visit?" "What do you mean?" "Is there some particular way you want me to be? Topics to avoid? Things I should know? I've heard conservative families can be tough for gay couples." "I suppose that's true, but no, just be yourself. I used to try to tell guys what to say and not say and it was just too much and not real, so it just ended up being an awkward mess. I trust you." Again, John was impressed with Andrew. For all his tendency to want to stay in control of everything, he seemed to be learning he could let go. And when that was applied to something he knew Andrew valued highly like family, that said volumes. "Thank you." "For what?" Andrew asked quizzically. "For trusting me. I mean it: I appreciate that." "Of course, you're welcome! If you start talking about our sex life, though, I will probably die." "I will never do that," promised John with a laugh. "Then we're good," asserted Andrew. "Just so I remember correctly, your mom and dad are still married and getting along, right?" "More or less at least, yes." "And you have one sister who is married and has three kids. I think the youngest is like five, right?" "Yeah!" confirmed a surprised Andrew. "How did you know she was five?" "You said the last one was just starting school, so I just did the math." "Oh." "And I'm pretty sure your sister is the middle child because she's older than your brother, but I think you are the oldest." "Yeah." "Is your brother dating someone?" "I don't know," Andrew admitted sheepishly. "I stopped asking because it's like he has a different girlfriend every time. I've only met a few of them, but I can't remember any of them, to be honest." "It's all good. Just making sure I've done my homework." "I'm impressed, though now that I think of it, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You seem to remember everything." "I try," John said. "Plus, I've had very real training." "Really? Like in school? �Oh! Like in the Marines!" "Yeah, like that," laughed John. "I'm dating Jason Bourne!" Too close to home. John didn't reply to that and hoped he didn't show a reaction. Andrew's guess was more accurate than he knew. In a quick effort to change the subject, John asked Andrew about his nieces and/or nephews. Seemingly oblivious to the deflection, Andrew happily answered. "Like you surmised, there are three of them. "Emma is the oldest, and she's nine. She's very much the big sister and probably doesn't let the other two forget it, though she's not quite as bossy as most her age. "Then comes Dalton, who just turned seven. He loves Legos and cars and a rotating cast of monsters or superheroes. I think King Kong is his latest fad, but that may have changed in the last few weeks, hahaha. "The five-year-old is Taylor, and she is sharp as a whip! She loves adventure in all its forms and can hold her own with the other two in just about anything. I can see her becoming Lara Croft in the future." "Well well! She must be quite the character!" "Oh, she is," confirmed Andrew. "And you think the whole family will be there today?" "Definitely." "Are you nervous?" "You mean about them meeting you?" "Yeah." "A little bit," Andrew admitted. "But also confident. I think you can get along with anyone." "I try," laughed John. "It makes life so much better!" "It does," chuckled Andrew. "Do I get a crash course on names too? I only know Emma, Dalton, and Taylor so far." "Oh yeah!" exclaimed Andrew sheepishly. "My mom's name is Gail and my dad's is Rick." "Not Dick?" "Absolutely not! Only Rick. Don't try Dicky, Ricky, or Richard�just Rick." "Okay, okay," laughed John. "Rick it is. Though I might call him sir." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Andrew do a double take glance in his direction, clearly not sure how John meant that. "As a gesture of respect, Captain Paranoid. Nothing more, I promise." "Okay�" acknowledged Andrew. "Anyway, my sister's name is Grace, and my younger brother is Thomas." "And your brother-in-law?" "Roger." "Simple enough," John said. "Thanks for the preview. That'll help a lot." "You're welcome." "And I think we're about there, right?" Andrew looked around and nodded. "You know how I said I was only a bit nervous earlier?" "Yeah..." "All of a sudden, I'm way more nervous." John quickly pulled the car over to the curb and turned to Andrew. "Give me your hands." Andrew obeyed. "Now look me in the eye." He did. "We will be fine," he said earnestly. "I won't do anything to embarrass you. You have told me about your family and your upbringing. I respect that and I understand at least most of what that means. Your family sounds like wonderful people who love you. I'm sure they only want what's best for you, right?" Andrew nodded. "That means they will be studying me and not you. I can handle that. You can let go and be yourself. I think I know you pretty well by now and I'm sure they do too. We all love you and if all else fails, we will have that in common. We will be fine." Andrew nodded. "Now tell me." "What?" "Tell me we will be fine." "But what if-�" "Nope!" John cut him off. The next four words I want to hear you say are `we will be fine.'" Andrew paused before replying. "We will be fine." "I don't believe you." "What?" asked a suddenly agitated Andrew. "Make me believe you." "How..." "Nope!" John cut in again. "Those are not the words! Tell me the right words and make me believe you when you say them." Recognition dawned in Andrew's eyes. "We will be fine," he said. "I almost believe you," John said. "Try it again." "We will be fine." John quirked an eyebrow at Andrew. "We will be fine!" John smiled. Andrew surprised him by saying it again, this time with assertion: "We WILL be fine!" "Yes, we will," John replied. "Always," he added. He could see the swell of confidence in Andrew's demeanor as it all sunk in. Finally! It was exciting to see, and John earnestly hoped it was there for good. John pulled back into the street and went the last couple blocks until he pulled up to a welcoming farm-style house. He turned off the car and looked at Andrew again. "I think this is going to be great." "I think so too!" Andrew said without equivocation. John could burst he was so proud of Andrew right now. John glanced at his watch: 9:58. Perfect. They walked up the driveway and to the front door. "Here we go," said John with a wink as Andrew turned the knob and opened the door. ********* What happens next? Tell me your thoughts! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

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Date: Wed, 02 Oct 2024 02:55:18 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 64 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 64 Andrew froze there on his knees with his cock balls deep inside John's ass, still spewing its load into that hot gripping ass. John recovered quicker, but was too out of breath to respond before Andrew heard a deep bass voice coming from the doorway. "He's fine, Nora," it said. "Could you make me a sandwich? I'm hungry from that drive." "Yes, dear," came the reply. "Salami and gouda?" "Gouda/salami sounds perfect, honey," the voice replied with just a hint of humor in it. By this time, John had turned his head to see the speaker, but hadn't moved otherwise. Somewhat recovering his equilibrium, Andrew slowly turned his head to see a fit and well-dressed silver-haired gentleman standing in the doorway. Sporting a tiny and somehow familiar smirk, he nodded to Andrew, managing to convey friendliness and humor simultaneously. "You boys might want to get cleaned up. It won't take her long to take care of my salami," he said with a wink before he turned to leave, closing the door behind him. "Is that...?" "Yeah, that's my grandpa." "Oh man!" Andrew exclaimed softly. "Hey, don't sweat it," John reassured him. "We're fine. You don't need to clam up on his account." "What makes you think I'm going to clam up?" "Are you joking? You don't think I know you a bit by now?" "Maybe I've changed," Andrew retorted. "Your cock says otherwise," John teased gently. "You never go down this fast." Caught in the dichotomy of feeling proud of that fact and the embarrassment that he had wilted so quickly this time, Andrew didn't answer. "Come on, Sport. We need to grab a quick shower. Grandma has a sharp nose." Jolted a little, Andrew pulled his mostly limp dick out of its warm home, leaving a small trail of splooge on John's furry cheeks. They both got up and made for the shower, and the water was warm enough to jump in after a few minutes. Andrew stepped in timidly only to have John bodily push him forward toward one of the corners and join him. "What are you doing?" Andrew whispered. "We can't shower together! Your grandparents are out there!" "Yeah, and if we aren't out quick, Gram's going to start asking questions you'd probably rather not answer." "Oh!" exclaimed Andrew as he set to washing himself up with alacrity. John chuckled, but he was doing exactly the same thing. "So does she...?" "Does she what? Know about things? Of course, but she prefers not to hear about it too much. Not because she's against it or anything," he added quickly. "She just doesn't think it's proper conversation in general." "Ah," said Andrew, hoping he understood the ramifications of that before realizing he had no clue. No help for it, he decided to himself. He would take his cue from John and his grandfather, and if it got uncomfortable, he would just fake confidence and forge forward. John's family paradigm was simply too alien to him. It only then really hit him that John's grandfather had just walked in and caught them in the very definition of a compromised position. His GRANDPA! Even while he industriously cleaned himself, he could feel his heart flutter within his chest with stress. And John had almost no reaction at all! What was up with that? He had talked about his family being incomprehensibly open, but Andrew just took that with a healthy grain of salt as he always did when he heard tall tales. He had learned to smile and nod appropriately without casting judgment or betraying his own unbelief, but this was pushing his limits. He had assumed John was referring to his brothers, which was relatively normal in and of itself. He had enough siblings that "the whole family" could reasonably be a euphemism for all the numerous brothers, which is how Andrew had interpreted it earlier. But now he had to wonder... John interrupted his train of thought "You about done?" "Yeah," Andrew confirmed. John turned off the water and grabbed a towel from the rack to throw at Andrew before snagging a second one for himself. They quickly got dressed and both shuffled their hair around a bit in the mirror, with Andrew trying to make sure his first impression was a good one. John saw him fussing more than usual. "Relax," he said comfortingly. "They're just normal people." "Normal rich people," Andrew corrected. "Who are related to my boyfriend. One of whom saw us having sex." "I don't think you'd ever guess they were rich by talking with them," John promised. "You'll be fine. And stop fussing with your hair before you start pulling it out." "I just want them to like me." "Of course you do. But they are bound to. And I think you're going to like them too," John said conversationally as if the entire situation was normal. "I'm sure," agreed Andrew, not at all as certain as he tried to make it sound. How was he going to have a normal conversation with John's grandfather knowing he saw him buck naked spiking his grandson? He caught himself short and reeled in his spiraling imagination. He decided he would pretend it never happened and see how far that got him. That was a good plan. John opened the door and led Andrew back to the kitchen. A few steps into the room, he introduced Andrew. "Gram, Grandpa, this is my boyfriend, Andrew. Andrew, this is Gram and Grandpa." "Andrew!" exclaimed the pleased-looking blonde woman (Nora, Andrew recalled) who stepped forward to grab his hand. "It is so nice to finally meet you! Johnny has been going on and on about you for weeks now. I'm so glad to have a face to put with the name now!" "Thank you, ma'am; it's nice to meet you too." "Well, I'm going to let that one `ma'am' stand, but please call me Nora." "Yes, m�I mean Nora." "There you go!" she beamed. She struck Andrew as possibly the sunniest person he'd ever met. She had a bright happiness that was contagious, and Andrew could feel his stress melting away as he stood in her presence. John's grandfather stuck his hand out to shake Andrew's as soon as Nora had let go. "Hello there," he said. "I'm Liam, and like she said, we are very pleased to meet you." "Likewise," Andrew responded. There was no judgment, smirk or private joke revealed on Grandpa Liam's face, either. Just a warm, friendly smile. In fact, Liam clasped Andrew's wrist with his other hand as he shook it as if to emphasize his sincerity. Andrew was relieved that he seemed off the hook. For now, anyway. Liam was almost as engaging as his wife. He somehow made Andrew feel seen and valued with a simple handshake. "We really are so glad to meet you," Liam repeated. "Though looking back, maybe we should have let you boys know we were going to be in town. I hate to think we ruined a private little weekend you two had planned," he said, again with no trace of inuendo or judgment. "Actually, I just wanted to show off the place," John admitted sheepishly. "You hadn't brought him up here before now?" Liam asked John with no small amount of surprise. "No," John said. "I didn't want to scare him off right away." "Scare him off? We didn't design this place to be scary," she protested. "The number one goal was to be welcoming, isn't that right, dear?" "Indeed it was," Liam agreed. "At least once you made it to the lift," he added on second thought. "We didn't want just anyone to waltz in here." "He's shown me around already," Andrew said quickly. "We'll just head back down and get out of your way." "Oh, nonsense! That's just silly," Nora said firmly. "You are more than welcome to stay here too. There is plenty of room and we would really like to get to know you�unless you two would rather be off on your own, of course." Andrew looked to John, who just shrugged as if to say it was his call. At least, that's what Andrew hoped he meant. The easy way out was back down that inclinator, but he did actually want to meet John's family, and if they normally lived in Palm Springs, who knew when the next opportunity would arise. "I would love to stay and get to know you if we truly wouldn't be in your way," Andrew replied. He caught John's expression of proud approval before turning back to their hosts. "Wonderful!" exclaimed Liam. "I actually did mean to call and confirm that we'd have a chance to meet up with you two this weekend anyway, but somehow with my schedule, it fell through the cracks." "`With your schedule?'" Nora repeated with a laugh. "Yeah, retirement can be so taxing, can't it? Between the golf course and brunch, it's really hard to use the phone." "Hey!" protested Liam. "I just might be bad about that. The prerogative of the unattached, you might call it." "Oh, you're attached, dear," Nora said, spinning her wedding ring around on her finger. "You'll have to forgive us," Liam said with conspiratorial wink. "We're newlyweds, you know." "Newlyweds with fifty-some years of experience in keeping it that way," she corrected blithely. "Now, before another word, I've made you boys some sandwiches if you're hungry." "Thank you, Gram," John said appreciatively. They moved to the table in the breakfast nook and sat down together even though Nora and Liam had already finished their lunch. "So, tell us a little about yourself, Andrew. What do you do?" Over the next several hours, Andrew enjoyed delightful conversation with John and his grandparents over dinner and card games. The "grands," as John called them, proved to be wonderful people who were easy to talk to and never seemed to even approach judgmental about anything. They listened well, had insightful questions, and were quite encouraging. As a successful businessman, Liam seemed especially excited about Andrew's plan to start his nursery and provided some solid feedback on Andrew's plans for getting it started. Andrew grew to love them over the course of the evening, and it seemed they felt the same way about him, which made him happy. Despite staying up much later than he was used to, Andrew felt the time passed much faster than normal right up until he caught himself yawning, much to his chagrin. "Well, boys," Nora said, graciously not drawing attention to the yawn. "I think I'm going to call it a night. It's been a travel day for us, so I think we should reconvene in the morning after a good night's sleep. Maybe even late morning, if that sounds good." "I couldn't agree more, dear," Liam agreed as both Andrew and John nodded in agreement. "Good night, boys. Sleep well." He stood up and offered Nora his hand before leading her off to their room. John and Andrew quickly cleared the table of the cards from the last game and shed their clothes before crawling into bed together. Andrew chose the side that looked out the grand wall of glass into the velvety night. When John turned out the light, the stars in the clear sky seemed to become even brighter. Andrew sighed with contentment as John spooned around him from behind. "I really like your grandparents," he said to John. "They seem like amazing people." "I think so, but of course I'm a bit biased." "If the rest of your family is half as nice, I'm in trouble." "Why would you say that?" Andrew paused because he was about to say he didn't know, but that was never the right answer with John. "I guess because I'm used to being the nice guy." "That's because you are a nice guy." "But�" "Unh unh," John stopped him short. "Don't you dare even think of comparing yourself to them. First off, you haven't met anyone else yet, so you literally can't. Secondly, it doesn't matter at all. Everyone is allowed to be nice. It's a literal shame to our race that not everyone is." "But I like being the best." John laughed softly in his ear as he drew him tighter. "You already are." He snuggled in and kissed the back of Andrew's neck and ears before settling his chin over Andrew's shoulder. Their cocks were hard of course, but they were both really sleepy too, so they were out cold mere moments later. At one point in the night, Andrew felt John unwrap himself and ease himself out of bed. "I need some water," he whispered to Andrew. "Would you like some?" Andrew heard him vaguely, but was too tired to care or answer and drifted back to sleep almost immediately. Sometime later, he stirred again and could sense John standing beside the bed behind him. He didn't even bother to turn his head. "Are you going to get in here, you loon, or just stand there?" He felt the covers pull as John climbed in and spooned back into place behind him. He nudged his ass back into John's groin to feel his hard-as-usual pecker between his cheeks and drifted off. He was soon aware that John's drink of water must have given him a bit more energy, because he was sliding his leaking cock up and down Andrew's crack now. Andrew was just a little annoyed and impatient to get back to sleep. "I'm too tired for you to just tease me with that," he finally whispered. "If you want in, just do it already." Without a word, John pulled back enough to line his cock up with Andrew's hole and after a moment's pause to moisten Andrew's opening, he slowly pushed himself in. Andrew was proud that he was adapting to John so well now that he could handle it without breathing exercises and conscious contortions to let him in. Instead of completely taking his breath away, it felt just right this time. Apparently, John felt the same as he started to slide in and out, keeping his arms tight around Andrew as if he was about to run away. As if! He may be super sleepy, but he always loved any contact with John. And this was one of the best ways. He moaned with happiness. John's pace began to quicken as he long-dicked his boyfriend. Faster and faster he went, Andrew pushing back against him for more. John pushed in deep and then somehow deeper before holding still. Andrew, through his ass, felt the pulse of each spurt course through John's dick from base to tip as he flooded Andrew's hole with a healthy load. Considering he had shot just a few hours earlier, Andrew had to admit it was pretty impressive that he could actually feel the load inside him. Too soon, John kissed him gently on the back of the neck and pulled out. Andrew vaguely felt him getting out of bed again and pulling the covers back over Andrew before heading for the en suite. John hadn't made it that far before Andrew drifted back into sleep. John gazed at his handsome moonlit beau in the bed from the doorway. He was so genuine and yet so mysterious at the same time. John could barely believe what was happening right before his eyes. Andrew was constantly full of surprises, and John doubted he would ever get over him. Not being religious did not stop him from praying he would never have to. His grandfather joined him there at the doorway and followed John's gaze. "He's certainly a good one, Johnny. Smart, sensitive, and hot as hell. Thank you for that�-I needed it badly!" "My pleasure, grandpa," he said, stepping aside so Liam could leave and go back to his own room. ********* What do you think should happen next? I look forward to hearing from you! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

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Date: Thu, 06 Jul 2023 21:43:42 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 42 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 42 Andrew didn't even look up to notice that there was a light on in the RV as he walked by. He just walked the short distance to the main drive and turned right. Like an escaped horse, he just mindlessly headed home. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts to think about what a twenty-mile walk would be. He just walked. He had gone about five minutes along the lane with a few cars and trucks passing him at random before an Acura pulled over just in front of him. He didn't care. He just walked around it. As he approached, the driver's window went down. "Need a lift somewhere?" Andrew didn't acknowledge the voice. In fact, he didn't even slow down. He was like a zombie. His reverie was only broken when his forward momentum was arrested by hands on his shoulder. "Andrew! What are you�" began a familiar voice that immediately changed timbre when we he saw Andrew's face. "Oh no. What's wrong?" "Nothing," mumbled Andrew as he sought to get away. "I'm not buying that. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that again?" With a sad resignation, Andrew tried to focus on the man's face, but it was all blurry. "No." The man said nothing and did not let go. Instead, he gave Andrew a hug right there on the side of the road. It wasn't a big burly John hug, which was good because Andrew didn't think he could handle that right now, but it was enough to trigger a choked cry, which led to a complete torrent of tears. The man kept his hug as Andrew's body was wracked with sobs. When the weeping subsided, Andrew pulled away from the embrace, wiped his eyes and recognized the man was Bill. "How are you doing?" Bill asked gently. "Better now," admitted a very embarrassed Andrew. "I don't know what came over me." "It's all right," said Bill. "It happens to all of us sometimes. Where's John?" Andrew sighed to himself. "Back at camp." "I see. Where are you heading? I could give you a ride if you like." "I don't know where I was going. Probably home." "Don't you live in town? That's a fair hike even in daylight." "Yeah," admitted Andrew. "I didn't really think about that." "Well, I'm going that way if you want a ride." "I, uh," began Andrew. "I don't really know where I want to go." "Tell you what: let's talk about it in the car, because I'm freezing out here." "Oh! Of course! I'm so sorry!" "Don't worry about it at all." They got into Bill's car, and it was only then that Andrew realized he was cold too. He shivered despite himself after he got in. "Let me turn on the heated seats," Bill suggested. "One of the best things ever invented in my opinion." Andrew smiled. "There we go!" Bill said happily. "So where would you like to go?" "Maybe home. Maybe nowhere. I don't know..." "Not a problem," Bill said. "Let's start with an easier question. Are you trying to get somewhere in particular, or just leave here?" "Leave here, I guess," he answered, realizing that he was running away. "Ah. And what makes you want to get away?" Andrew didn't respond immediately. "Don't worry," Bill added. "I don't need to know the details and I won't be judgy even if you share them. I take it you and John aren't seeing eye to eye?" "Oh, it's nothing like that," Andrew answered hurriedly. "He's amazing." "And you're not?" Bill asked with a quirked eyebrow. "Well, no, I'm just normal." "You know you can be normal and amazing at the same time, don't you?" "Um..." "Do you realize that John is also normal?" "No, he's not. He's incredible." Bill sighed. "Listen to me, Andrew. No one is perfect. It's not possible. It may look like he has everything together, but do you know what kind of childhood he had? What his high school was like? His college years? How about his old relationships? "We all have history and wounds. It's what makes us who we are. And you can't have any of that without developing a few quirks along the way. Just because you have a hard time seeing his flaws doesn't mean he doesn't have any." "I know all that." "Prove me wrong then. Name one of his weaknesses." "I..." Andrew trailed off. "But there's nothing wrong with him!" "Listen, kiddo. He can't see anything wrong with you either." "But that's just it!" Andrew erupted. "Once he sees me for who I am, he'll ditch me for sure, and I don't think I could handle that!" "You sound awfully certain about that." "It's just that I know me pretty well." "For all his apparent perfection, you don't give him very much credit, do you?" "Huh?" "It sounds to me like you are just guessing that he would leave you," Bill said. "Let me ask you this: Are you going to ditch him when you discover one of his weaknesses?" "I would never do that!" "Never is a very long time, but if you think you wouldn't leave him for being imperfect, don't you think you should give him that chance too?" "Well, yeah, but..." "But you're afraid of getting hurt," Bill finished for him. "Yeah." "So instead of risking getting hurt by him, you're going to hurt him first." "I wouldn't�-oh." "And when you think about it, it's already too late anyway. If you break up now, you'll hurt just as much, and you won't ever know how good it could have been. From the outside looking in, you guys make a great couple, but to make that happen, you must commit to it and not be wishy-washy." "So `do or do not: there is no try'?" "You've got it. So, there's my two cents." Andrew was disappointed Bill didn't seem to get his Yoda reference like John would have, but it did clarify some things that have been running around his head for weeks. "I hope I haven't stepped out of bounds here," Bill said. "I really don't mean to push you one way or the other, I just thought you could use a fresh perspective." "I appreciate it. I was having a hard time processing things in my head." "I picked up on that." "Since we are being so frank, what if I can't do it?" "Do what?" "Be true to John alone." "You can do almost anything you truly decide to do." "Yeah, but..." "Yes, stuff happens. Like I said, none of us is perfect. But just deciding to try is most of the battle. It's how you proceed from those mistakes that defines you." "Well, I just cheated on him, and I can't help feeling like a failure." "Ah, that does explain some things." Bill said, nodding. "In that case, I dare you to tell him and see what he says about it." "What?" "You heard me. Secrets are deadly to relationships. Trust me, I know. Get it out in the open as soon as possible. Unless you are afraid John is jealous enough to physically go after whomever you messed around with." "There wasn't anyone else." "Oh! I thought you said you cheated on him. My apologies for misunderstanding." "I did! I mean there wasn't anyone else, but I did in my mind." "Really?" Bill was clearly quite surprised. "Yeah. I jacked off thinking about an old porn." "Wow. Okay," Bill paused. "If you're worried about this, you'll be fine, my friend. Let me also reassure you that it's not cheating if there isn't another person. That's kind of the definition of cheating: playing with someone not in the relationship. Even us married straight guys jack off. A lot, actually. Girls don't seem to like sex as much as we do. My wife and I have our own arrangement, but why do you think so many guys have affairs and mistresses?" "Because the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence?" "Touch�! It's hard to pick the right one when it's forever," Bill admitted. "I know. Maybe that's why I'm having a hard time: I'm too old-fashioned and I'm picking for life." "That's a good thing," Bill laughed. "Now how are you feeling?" "Much better, thanks." "Good! Now my offer still stands; I will take you wherever you like. You are a grown man, kiddo, and entitled to make your own decisions. Where do you want to go?" "I think I'll go back to John, thanks," replied Andrew as he reached for the door handle. "Hey wait!" "What?" "Let me drive you. It's still dark and cold out there." "Isn't it almost dawn?" Bill chuckled. "It's late, but not THAT late!" "What time is it?" "Just after three." "Oh." "So where is John from here?" "He's in the RV park behind us." "Got it." Bill turned his car around and followed Andrew's directions back through the RV lot until they came up to the big black fifth wheel again. Andrew noticed that everything was dark and quiet again now. Everything except a lone light in the big black trailer. "Thanks, Bill," Andrew said as he got out. "Or should I call you Oprah?" "Please don't," laughed Bill. "Take care, kiddo. Don't give up and I will see you later." "Okay," agreed Andrew. "Good night." "Good night." Bill headed off and Andrew walked up to the trailer and went inside. Andrew barely made it inside before John had him wrapped up in a hug. "I was worried sick about you! Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine." "I woke up and you'd disappeared. I didn't know what happened." "I just went for a walk." "A walk, huh? Where did you go? The barn?" "No, I just went down to that second restroom and then back down that way," he said pointing toward the road. "Not that way?" John asked pointing the opposite direction. "No." "Gotcha," said John. "You were just gone so long, I assumed you had." "Well, I did get waylaid a couple times," Andrew admitted. "Were they cute?" "Who?" "Your waylayers, of course!" "There was only Bill," Andrew said. "Wait, you played with Bill? Twice? I didn't know you had it in you! And I thought you said you didn't go to the barn," said a perplexed John. "I didn't go to the barn," Andrew insisted. "I went to the restroom and jacked off. After that, I just walked in the other direction." "And how did Bill fit in?" Andrew ignored his obvious quip. "He drove me back." John pondered for a moment before letting it drop. "Well, I'm glad you're back even if you don't have a juicy story to tell. I missed you." "I did tell you I jacked off, didn't I?" "Yeah," John answered. "You had fun, didn't you?" "Well yeah." "Then great! Now can we go back to bed?" "Yeah." They walked back to the bedroom and this time they stripped down and actually got under the covers. John wrapped himself around Andrew like a cocoon as he usually did and was quickly asleep. John was tired after all, Andrew thought to himself. He had done as Bill recommended and told John about his jacking off without him and the world didn't explode. In fact, it didn't even blip. He had to tell John twice just to make sure it registered, and still nothing. He really had worked himself up for nothing. He was really going to have to learn not to do that. "Do or do not. There is no try." Words to live by, he decided. That Yoda guy knew something after all. Andrew decided right then he would "do" with John to the best of his ability. No more looking for the exit. He ran through all the advice Bill had given over the course of the day and came to the conclusion that it was worth the fight. And just maybe he wouldn't end up being heartbroken at all. He crossed his fingers on that as he crossed into sleep. Andrew awoke the next morning not really rested. It had been a long night and the two short sleep stints weren't enough, but he didn't want to waste time in bed. He got up, pulled on some shorts and a tank top, and wandered out into the main room where John was standing in his boxers and a t-shirt sipping from a steaming mug as he watched the morning news playing quietly on the TV. Oh great, thought Andrew, John's a News Guy. It didn't really surprise him when it came down to it, but he had little stomach for news programs himself. It all seemed like the same stuff over and over, rehashed, repackaged, and recalibrated for maximum division and disaster. He enjoyed keeping abreast of things happening in the world, but he preferred newspapers. He didn't trust the internet and radio was just a series of baby blurbs, so it was hard to get a balanced view anymore. While not so keen on John's choice of entertainment, that steaming mug struck a strong chord. John turned toward him as he walked into the kitchen. "Well good morning, sleepy head," he said. "How are you feeling?" "A bit wiped out, to be honest." "I thought you might be. Me too," he admitted. "But this chai is helping. There is some in the upper cabinet to the left of the stove." "Thanks." Andrew found it and made a hot cup of it for himself and added a little milk to tone down the bite just a bit. Ah, just what the doctor ordered! He walked over and stood beside John silently. John reached out with is free hand and pulled him close. "I'm sorry I grilled you last night, I was just really worried about you since I didn't know where you'd gone." "It's okay. I was tired and got wrapped up in my own headspace again, that's all." "I'm sorry, love," John said, kissing him on the forehead. "I'm really glad you didn't leave." "Me too." They stood there for a bit longer before Andrew's stomach growled. "I guess we'd better decide what to do for breakfast, huh?" asked John. "It seems so," admitted Andrew. "I'm not up for Mabel this morning though. Can we have it delivered here?" "Of course! Do you know what sounds good?" "Maybe crepes? Do they have those?" "I'm sure they can whip some up for us in no time." John found his phone and ordered their breakfast, and they went back to watching the news. About twenty-five minutes later, a light rap at the door signaled the arrival of the food. Typically unabashed, John answered the door in his boxers and collected the food from the delivery girl. He then made a dramatic show of setting out all the plastic utensils and food containers on the kitchen bar. "Okay," he finally announced. "It won't eat itself! Let's dig in!" They did just that, and once again the food was wonderful. His crepes were light and fluffy with just the right amount of berries and powdered sugar on them. John seemed equally pleased with his French toast. They were nearly done when someone pounded loudly on the door. "Help! Is anyone home? Please help!" ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :) Also, I have had trouble posting consistently lately, so if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-52

Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2024 13:52:38 +0000 From: DurtyRiter <DurtyRiter@protonmail.com> Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 52 I'd be honored if you could donate something to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 52 Any reply John might have made was impossible with the big pole stuffed in his mouth, and with his head flat against the headboard, he had no power to change that. Andrew had neatly orchestrated his little feat. In his eagerness to watch his own cock slide into Andrew, John had maneuvered himself into a compromised position. Even his arms were pinned down, and now he couldn't move. It was unexpected and hot. He was so worked up he thought his cock would just erupt, but it didn't. It maddeningly just hovered on the very edge giving him no release. Andrew held his head against the headboard with both hands as he began to thrust in and out of John's mouth. He didn't even start slow: it was full intensity right out of the box, which was not like the Andrew John had come to expect. No gradual ramp up, no sentimental or romantic dallying, no effort made to let John acclimate to the situation. The abrupt transition from the slow and easy attention given earlier to this full-on pummeling could not have been more stark. John was equal parts surprised and proud that Andrew let this side of him out. His cock was so hard he thought it was going to explode. Sideways. "Yeah, take that cock, Johnny Boy!" Andrew yelled. John couldn't believe he heard those words come out of Andrew, let alone the growling tone. Something had been let loose for sure! Somewhere in the background from the hardcore face fucking he was getting, he realized he had missed his own climax and no longer felt like his cock was going to explode. He shifted his attention to the long hard dick in his mouth, working his tongue on it the best he could as it pistoned in and out. He couldn't help grunting from the force of Andrew's thrusts, and John could feel the reaction to his noises in the flesh within his mouth as it pulsed stronger. He could hear Andrew's breath speeding up and knew he would be in for it soon. Almost immediately, Andrew let out a roar (Andrew? Roar?!?) and spewed his load deep down John's throat. He knew there would be a good amount, and there certainly was. Unable to do anything but take it, he did his best to swallow it as it came. He was only marginally successful, as it dribbled out of the sides of his mouth as Andrew continued to pump his pud. It was a good thing his muscle memory allowed him to keep breathing under the onslaught despite its abrupt start. There was something to be said for experience! Andrew finally stopped shooting, but again, there was no sag or gradual withdrawal. He pounded every last drop of cum into John and then suddenly didn't plunge back in. Instead, he flipped around in one quick moment and swallowed John's cock in one fell swoop. Again, there was no warning and no adjustment, just full impalement, downing the heavy tool down to the root. John could have sworn he had cum, but he was clearly still bone-hard and was instantly back at the edge of shooting. John gasped at the sudden change, but now that his arms weren't pinned, he wasn't going to let Andrew have all the fun! There, right in front of him, Andrew's little hole winked at him. John pulled those cheeks apart and dove in like a starving man. But rather than just start in with his tongue, John first leaned his head back as far as he could and ground his stubbly chin into Andrew's smooth ass, spreading all of Andrew's spunk that had escaped earlier around the little crack. Only when all the cum was lavishly smeared around did John's tongue start its attack, lapping at all the tasty cream as he bore down and into Andrew's hole. He could feel Andrew's gasp at his cock, and that was all it took for him to lose it, shooting strongly into Andrew's warm and waiting mouth. John didn't ease up as he kept feeding on Andrew's butt tasting Andrew's load even as his own seed filled Andrew. He had no idea how long he kept shooting, but the spasms in is cock continued for quite a while as he continued to assault the tidy hole in front of him. Andrew finally let John's cock free of his mouth and nuzzled his way down into John's loose balls as he moaned with ecstasy at John's tongue talents. A few moments later, John felt some hot splatter land on his chest, so he reached one hand around and confirmed that Andrew was hard. Still? Again? It didn't matter, but he somehow managed to shoot a second load mere minutes after flooding John's mouth earlier. And his cock was apparently super sensitive, because as soon as John felt the hard rigidity, Andrew jumped all the way off the bed with a yelp. John looked at him with surprise. "SorÑI mean, wow!" Andrew exclaimed. "Yeah!" John agreed. "Wow! I didn't see that coming at all! I don't know what came over you, but that was amazing!" Andrew blushed. "I just..." he started to say before trailing off. "You just triggered some amazing sex," John supplied. "See? I knew you had it in you!" Andrew clearly didn't know what to say, but at least he was letting John give him some praise. "And you came a second time, too! I didn't know you could do that!" "I usually can't that quickly..." "Well, you did this time, and it was hot!" Andrew blushed deeper. "I think I did too," John added with a wink. Andrew looked a little puzzled at that. "I'm pretty sure you only came once," he said slowly. "I mean, it was a big load for sure, and it kept cumming for a long time, but I don't think that's the same thing..." he trailed off uncertainly. "I could have sworn I came when you first shoved that log down my throat!" Andrew blushed again, but managed to reply this time. "All I know is there was no load down there when I flipped around. And judging by how hard you shot in my mouth, I really doubt you could have shot earlier." "Oh! Well, either way, it was amazing from beginning to end, and that's all I care about!" Andrew humbly grinned in proud response. "Now what say we shower off?" "Sounds good to me!" Andrew agreed. Still in the afterglow of the passionate session they had just had, they made their way down to the bathroom and showered together, soaping each other down and rinsing each other off before toweling each other dry. "So what shall we do with the rest of our day?" John asked. "I don't care as long as I get to spend it with you," Andrew answered. "Okay, Captain Sappy, how about a movie then?" "Sure." After a few minutes, they decided on Queen Latifah's "Last Holiday" and settled onto the couch together. Not in the mood to simply sit by his side, Andrew had John lay out lengthwise across the deep couch, and then he nestled in front of him little spoon-style. They had both seen the flick before, so they only half paid attention to it, being more conscious of the togetherness they shared as Andrew burrowed into John, who had his arms wrapped around Andrew in a warm embrace. A few hours later, Andrew gradually figured out he had fallen asleep. The TV was looping its bright and happy menu track for the movie they had been watching, and John was rumbling his soft snore in his ear, but his arms still held Andrew tight. The light coming in from all the windows was tinged gold, so it had to be late afternoon. It didn't bother him at all. Now that The Disclosure Talk was over, relaxation was the order of the day. He didn't even bother to try to process John's revelations. That could wait, and he wanted to be one hundred percent here right now. Securely enveloped and completely connected to John was his happy place and would be forevermore. He recognized that before he began to spend time with John, his brain would never stop thinking. Incessantly observing, calculating, and planning. "Overthinker" could be his middle name. But John had grounded him somewhere along the way and he was learning to let go sometimes and just enjoy the moment. It was far from a new habit, but he could see the beginnings of change within himself. He had to laugh at his own irony now, because he was thinking about how he was learning to be okay with not thinking. But more pressing matters were what had woken him up. Literally. His bladder was crying for release and would not be ignored. With an inner sigh, he gently pried John's upper arm back so he could climb out of the pseudo-cocoon he was in. His movements got a noticeable physical reaction from John's middle, but he didn't dare take advantage of that just now. He had to pee, and doing that here on the couch was not an option he was willing to consider. He made it to his feet, and after a second of groggily finding his balance, hustled to the toilet. He didn't take long at all, but by the time he was done, John had gotten up as well. "I'm sorry," Andrew said before he could stop himself. "I didn't mean to wake you up." "Don't worry about it," John assured him. "I didn't mean to fall asleep in the first place. Are you hungry?" "Not yet," Andrew answered. "Game for some Spite and Malice?" "Sure!" They broke out the cards, dealt them out, and spent the afternoon playing and chatting. Before they knew it, darkness was falling. "Hungry yet?" John asked Andrew. "Yeah, I'm getting there now," Andrew admitted. Neither being in the mood to cook, they decided to order pizza and started another round of cards. The pizza didn't take long to arrive, but by the time they had eaten and finished the card game, night had fallen. As they cleared the table, wiped down the counters, and put everything away, Andrew thought it was interesting that John was so tidy. He guessed most people would call John a neat freak, but Andrew didn't. Probably only because he was even more that way than John. It wasn't like he was paranoid about germs or hated mess. John just had a procedure and rhythm to everything he did. Maybe it was his military background that did it. Things were doneÑ-and done rightÑ-before he moved on to the next thing. He never seemed hurried or stressed out, and Andrew kind of envied that. With any luck, he hoped, that could rub off on him too. When they were finished, John came over to him and took his hand. "Come here, let me show you something." Andrew let himself be led back up the stairs to the loft and they settled back down onto the bed side by side. Above them through the large skylight, He could see the cloudless star field above. "Look at the stars!" exclaimed Andrew. "That is so cool." "You ain't seen nuthin' yet," drawled John. He tapped a light switch next to the bed and all the lights in the apartment went out. Robbed of its competition, the view of the sky came alive. It looked like a dark blue velvet curtain bedazzled with a million prismatic diamonds. "Wow," he exclaimed. "You can see so many!" "Right? It's not quite as good as being out in the middle of nowhere, but for being in town I think it's pretty impressive." "It's been a long time since I paid attention to the constellations," Andrew admitted. "The only ones that I remember are the Big Dipper and Orion. The Dipper because you always need to know where north is and Orion because I think of his sword as something else." "You're such a secret pervert," John teased him. Andrew smiled shyly. "Maybe..." "Can you find other constellations?" John asked. "I know the Little Dipper is right next to the big one, but I don't remember enough to spot it. And it's so clear tonight that there are too many for me to pick it out." "If only there were some sort handheld computer with a camera in it that could help," John bemoaned dramatically. "Dork!" "A trendy dork with a smart phone, so be nice to me," John joked. He pulled out his phone and opened a stargazing app to find more constellations through the expansive glass windows and skylights. They spent the next two hours laying side by side studying the stars and discussing the likelihood of life on other planets and what it could look like before they finally grew sleepy. For a day that had started with the potential to go sideways, Andrew was pleased beyond measure that it didn't. It may have been hard to share some things, but in the end they understood each other better and he felt more connected to John than ever. John had his arm around Andrew and held him to his side as they drifted off into a comfortable slumber, content to be close and together. ********* If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-43

Date: Sun, 23 Jul 2023 01:31:05 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 43 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 43 John dashed to the door so fast Andrew would have sworn his dropped fork hadn't hit the table before John had flung the door open. "What's the trouble?" he asked of the person outside. "John! Thank God! It's Ron; he can't move, and I don't know what to do!" John turned his head quickly to Andrew. "Grab my phone and follow us!" "On it!" John turned back toward the visitor: "Show me!" And with that, John dashed out without even bothering to grab his shoes. Andrew snagged John's phone from the counter and hurried out the door himself, though he closed it behind him. He looked up just in time to see John disappear around the neighboring RV. He couldn't see them anywhere down the way when he turned the corner, but he caught a glimpse of John ducking through the portal of the trailer he was standing next to and followed him. It wasn't until he was inside that Andrew recognized Brad fretting while John was crouched by the bed attending to someone whom Andrew couldn't see, but guessed was Ron. "Can you move?" "No, it's like my back is locked." "Okay, well try to relax. We'll get you taken care of. Andrew, can you hand me my phone?" Andrew tossed it to him, and John swiped it out of the air with nonchalant ease. He had it up to his ear in seconds. "Hey, Dunc, are you here at the Jacks? We could really use your help at RV 57�Ron is having trouble moving and I think it's his back�Got it�Thanks, we'll see you soon." "Okay, Duncan is on his way. In the meantime, let's get some hot water bottles together. Brad, there should be one under the sink, could you grab it and fill it up with comfortably warm water?" Brad nodded. "Great. Andrew, if you can grab the one from our trailer and bring it over too, we can use that too." "I'll be right back," Andrew promised. "Now Ron, I really need you to try to keep relaxed if you can. Unflex all your muscles and just think of melting into the bed�" Andrew heard as he left on his mission. He quickly found the hot water bottle and filled it up. He also got John's shorts, shoes, and socks that he had dropped on the floor the night before and brought them with him. Then he remembered that there was probably someone in the RV in spot 60 as well, so he crossed the drive on a hunch and knocked on the door. A few moments later the door opened a crack, and a sleepy black man poked his head out. "Yeah?" "I'm sorry to bother you, but we kind of have a medical emergency. Could I borrow your hot water bottle?" "I wish I could help, but I don't think I have one of those," the man said dubiously. "If you wouldn't mind, could you just check under the bathroom sink real quick?" "I suppose," he agreed. "Hold on a sec." Andrew tried not to tap his foot in impatience while he waited for the man to return. He knew it wasn't taking as long as it felt, but still... The door opened again shortly. "Well, whaddya know? There was one hiding down there after all! Here you go, and good luck!" he said, tossing the bag to Andrew. "Thank you, sir," Andrew said gratefully after he managed to catch it even with his hands full. "I'll get it back to you soon." "That's fine," the man said as he shut the door. Andrew hustled back to Ron's trailer to find not much different: Ron was still laying on the bed and Brad was standing there anxious with worry while John's natural confidence patiently tried to help Ron relax. "Ah, you're back," John said. "And I brought more gifts," Andrew replied. He handed the first hot water bottle to John, and sensing Brad needed something to do, he had him fill up the other one. Once John had placed the hot tub, Andrew handed him the rest of his clothes. "You thought of everything, didn't you?" John asked approvingly. "I do try," Andrew reminded him. "Where did you find the other bottle?" "I remembered Amanda had said that space 60 was reserved for a guy who was always here, so I knocked on the door and asked for his too." "And he answered?" John asked in surprise. "That's some kind of miracle. Carl is not a morning person." "I noticed, but he was amenable enough to fish it out for us." "'Amenable, huh?" John chuckled. "Good for him. How are you doing there, Ron? He should be here any minute. Just keep trying to let go and relax." "I'm trying," Ron assured him. "It hurts, but I'm doing my best." "That's all you need to do." Brad came back and handed John the third hot water bottle, which he placed a little under Ron. Shortly after that, they heard someone drive up, so Andrew went to the door to let the medic in. Duncan had a big bag with him this time and was all business. "Okay, where is he?" "Right this way," Andrew gestured toward the bedroom. "I've got him if you need to be somewhere, Master John." John gave Ron a reassuring smile. "Duncan here will get you all fixed up now and I'll be right outside if you need me, `kay?" "Thanks, John," said Ron. "Okay, Ron," began Duncan. "Tell me how this started. What were you�" John closed the door on his way out to give Ron some privacy. "You going to put those on, or just carry them around all day?" Andrew asked with a grin, gesturing to John's armload of clothes. "Give me a second already," John joked. "I've been a little preoccupied in case you missed it." "Fair enough," Andrew acceded. John pulled on his shorts and sat on the nearby sofa to put on his socks and shoes. "I hope he'll be okay," John confessed. "He's not in the best shape and I worry about him. It's not like he is very active and that's probably not the best thing going for him." "He was active enough last night," chuckled Andrew. "What do you mean?" "This place was rocking last night, that's all I can say." "What?" "You know what I mean: they were having a grand time and this trailer was bouncing on its creaky joints in the dead of night. It was squeaking so loud it woke me up." "Ah!" John said. "Then it was probably unusual muscle activity." "If you say so," Andrew replied doubtfully. "Though I watched them go at it with gusto last week too." "Oh yeah." "But you're probably right. Things were moving so much I couldn't get back to sleep. That's why I went for a walk." Andrew kicked himself mentally for bringing that back up again. He just wanted to forget it and move on. "Ah," John said empathetically. But he didn't dredge through the topic like Andrew feared he would. Instead, John ignored it completely and changed the subject. "So, what would you like to do after we make sure Ron's okay?" Andrew shrugged. "I just assumed you had a plan as usual." "No preferences?" "Not particularly. You always have fun things up your sleeves, and as long as I'm with you, I don't really care." "Aw," John said with a smile. "You're so sweet." Andrew turned it back on John. "What do YOU want to do?" "Assuming Ron is good, I think a shower is in order. Then� How about a short hike?" "Fine," agreed Andrew. "But just a short one. I need to get to bed early tonight so I'm ready for tomorrow. I'm still tired." "Gotcha." They talked for about another half hour before the bedroom door opened and Ron walked out with Duncan and Brad following close behind. "I can't thank you enough, John." Ron said. "I kind of panicked this morning." "Don't worry about it, man," John replied. "I'm just glad you're okay." "Yeah, I'm good. Duncan helped me stretch things out and then suddenly I was good again." "Like I said," interjected Duncan. "You will feel it soon and be sore for a couple days still, so don't overdo it." "Okay. Sorry I got everyone worked up about it." "It's all good," John assured him. "I'm just glad we could be here for you. Please let us know if you need anything and don't do the whole solo macho routine. We want you with us for a long time yet." "Yes sir," replied Ron. "Now get out of here and enjoy your day!" They obliged him and headed back to their trailer as Duncan drove away in his Jeep. "Next up shower and a hike?" Andrew asked. "I suppose it would make more sense for us to hike before the shower, wouldn't it?" "I guess so." "'Kay, hike it is. Oh, wait! I just had another thought. How about rappelling again? That was fun, right?" "Oh yeah," confirmed Andrew. "Let's do that!" They grabbed their things out of the trailer and locked it up before heading back to the office in the old Jeep. About halfway there, Andrew remembered the water bottles. "Should we go back for them?" "Nah," answered John. "Just remind me to let Amanda know about them." "Okie dokie!" "Dork!" "Nerd!" They went to check out at the office, but it was not Amanda who greeted them. Instead, there was a somewhat tall guy with pale blue eyes and wispy longish blonde hair. "Hey there, Dean," John called to him as they walked in. "Hey John." "Where's Amanda?" "She wasn't feeling so hot this morning, so I told her I'd take over for her so she can rest up." "You're the best." "Thanks!" Dean said with a smile. "How can I help you this morning?" "We are just checking out from RV 59, but also there are a couple extra hot water bottles in 57 that need to go back to 59 and 60." "No problem, I will let Housekeeping know." "Thanks Dean!" "You betcha, Master John." John left the key on the counter and he and Andrew made their way back out to the Jeep. They hopped in and John drove them up the highway to the garage and the increasingly familiar trail. The weather was pretty warm, so they took off their shirts rather than let them get all sweaty. John didn't bother to stop at the rusty Quonset hut at all this time, but just drove directly through the clearing and started up the trail. Maybe it was association with this trail, but Andrew's thoughts started to drift down familiar paths. What if this wasn't real? What if John was�and then he brought himself up short. He realized where he was sliding and stopped immediately. No. He was not going to be that guy anymore. He had promised himself (and a virtual stranger) that he would not entertain doubts any longer. He would fight to win from here on out. But stopping the sabotaging thoughts was just the first step, he realized. There couldn't be a vacuum in his head. He just wasn't wired that way. He had to think of something else instead or he'd just keep slipping into that old habit. It was so frustrating! The more he tried not to think negatively, the less he could think of anything else. In desperation, he turned to the one thing he pondered more than himself: John. The way he handled Ron's crisis just an hour ago. It was crazy and bordered on unbelievable. How could he stay so calm and collected in the face of an emergency? And he was able to bring everyone else into line without hesitation. How had he managed that? He was pretty sure Brad was in some sort of shock and John still kept him useful and productive. How could he be so confident all the time? Why did people just follow him so willingly? It did not escape his notice how many people called him `sir' or `mister' or even `master.' Was that a trained affectation, or did everyone really look up to him that much? Why? Did Andrew have the courage to ask John directly, or should he ask those around him instead? If it was something he trained everyone into, did that mean he was uber-controlling? Maybe that was one of those invisible faults Bill had talked about. Or had John earned that deep respect from all the disparate people around him? Andrew had reached no conclusions by the time John pulled off into the little vale and parked. They grabbed some rope and harnesses from the back of the Jeep and made their way to the stairs. "I think I'll just head up and toss the rope down from above and save us the hassle of tossing it up and hoping it sticks," John said. "Sounds good. Want any help?" "Naw, you can head down now if you remember where it is." "I do," said Andrew. "I'll see you in a few." "Yes, you will," said John as he began his climb up the steps. Andrew found the narrow little downward path without any trouble and proceeded to put his harness on. He had finished his own and was working to untangle John's when John came walking down the path to join him. "I had another thought," announced John. "Yeah?" "Let's do it naked this time." "Really?" Andrew asked. "Won't this thing chafe if we do that?" "Not much, actually." Andrew paused ever so slightly. "Then why not?" "Exactly!" said John, grinning. Andrew extricated himself from the harness and they both stripped down to nothing before donning the safety gear in the nude. "Mmmm!" John said lasciviously. "You look good in that thing!" "So do you!" Andrew replied, hoping drool wasn't escaping his lips as he said it. They walked further into the alcove where the rope was hanging down and John leaned in and kissed Andrew. "Safety first," he whispered as he took hold of the rope and started to secure it to Andrew's harness. Once he had finished, John stepped back to inspect his work. He stood there studying Andrew's crotch area for a moment, and Andrew was struck again by John's good looks, the sheen of sweat on his body, and the darkening of his hair as it got wet. His own cock twitched a bit as he drank in John yet again. It then did more than twitch when he saw John's reaction to him... "Ready?" John asked, breaking his reverie. "Yeah," he answered. "On belay?" "Belay on!" Andrew began his ascent, but only made it about ten feet before John called out "Stop!" from below. "What?" asked Andrew, worried he had messed something up. "Lowering!" "Ready to lower," Andrew replied even though he didn't want to. John wouldn't have stopped him for no reason. Of that, he was sure. John lowered Andrew until he could almost touch the ground and then held him in place there. "What did I do?" "Oh, it wasn't you. I forgot something. Hold on." Uncertainly, Andrew complied and tried not to worry as John tied the rope to one of those many hooks attached to the rock face. John then grabbed a couple black strap things and wrapped them around Andrew's ankles. Andrew couldn't figure out what John was doing. There were no ankle attachments for climbing equipment that he knew of, but John was way more into it than he was and maybe he knew something Andrew didn't? It wasn't until John started threading rope through the rings at his ankles that he knew what was happening. He finished getting hard instantly. "Hey! What are you doing?" he asked, playing along. John didn't answer, but suddenly he yanked hard on the rope and Andrew's feet were swept out from under him and drawn toward the wall, spread as far apart as he could stretch. ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :) Also, I have had trouble posting consistently lately, so if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-39

Date: Wed, 22 Mar 2023 19:15:47 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man With the Jeep Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 39 John and Andrew cleaned up the best they could using the boxers John donated to the cause. John tried to wad them up and shove them in a pocket, but quickly discovered that wasn't a good idea. Andrew laughed when he saw the telltale smears being left on John's shorts, to which John just shrugged with a sheepish grin. "I guess that's not going to work, is it?" "Nope," laughed Andrew. "Unless you wanted to start advertising your recent activities." "It's not THAT obvious," John protested. "In a few minutes, it should pass as tree sap." "Uh huh," grunted Andrew. "Keep telling yourself that." "Even if not, who cares?" "You'd know better than I," Andrew admitted. "Still a little conservative, are you?" John teased. "I was beginning to forget." "Hey!" "It's no bad thing," John assured him. "But after what we just did, well, you know..." "Yes?" prompted Andrew. "What about what we just did?" "Never mind," John said with a dismissive wave. "I'm hungry and I can't think straight right now." "I should hope not!" exclaimed Andrew vehemently. John somehow managed to groan and chuckle at the same time. "Let's go get something to eat." "Copy that," Andrew replied. They resumed their journey down the trail, but it wasn't long before it broke out into the open. There, in the middle of the clearing was the big barn where their stroll had begun, looking just as it had when the first arrived. They made their way back to the Jeep and clambered aboard. "Now," said John, looking over at Andrew with one of his telltale smirks. "You said you wanted an extensive tour of the place, right?" "No, I did not!" Andrew retorted. "Food! I want sustenance!" "Then sustenance you shall receive!" John proclaimed with a smile. He fired up the engine, threw the cranky shifter into reverse, and backed the old workhouse away from the barn. They were soon rattling their way back to the main drive and toward Mabel's. When they arrived, the place was quiet, though not empty. They walked in and noticed Bill right away, sitting at one of the tables looking over a menu. Andrew surprised John when, without a word, he led them up to his table. "Hey Bill!" Andrew said. "I don't want to impose or anything, but would you welcome some company for lunch?" "Sure," Bill replied. "That would be nice." Unbeknownst to Andrew and John, Bill had just been thinking of them. In fact, he was having trouble focusing on the menu thanks to the fresh memory of their activity on the rock. But Bill was an old pro had hiding surprise, so they were completely unaware. The boys slid into the bench across from Bill and Andrew snagged a menu for himself before Bill popped the usual question: "So what's good here?" "Well, I'm obviously biased," John replied. "So maybe you should ask Andrew here." Bill looked over to Andrew, who was happy to respond. "When I asked that, they said `everything,' which of course was no help at all," he laughed. "But I can personally vouch for the cheeseburgers, the waffles, and the ice cream sundaes, and I'm going to try the chicken strips today." "Fair enough," Bill answered. That was as far as they got before Mabel swung by with silverware, water, and an orange juice. "Well bless me, it's Johnny and Androo (she somehow misspelled his name in the way she pronounced it, which Andrew found charming), come to join our new Bill! Excellent! This is how it's supposed to be, you know: making new friends and never leaving someone on their own to fend for themselves. That's what I like about this one," she told Bill as she elbowed John's shoulder. "He's so quick to make everyone feel at home. It's what really sets this place apart, make no mistake. He invests himself into everyone he meets. No such thing as stranger to that one!" "Actually," John interjected, "I didn't even get the chance this time. It was Andrew here who led the way." "Oh, did he now?" she said with the air of a proud mama. "I told you he was a keeper, Johnny, and this isn't the first proof, I'm sure. As you know, I do know a thing or two about people, and I knew immediately that this one was a good one. And I said so, didn't I? Yes, I did. The fact that he's cute as a button and knows how to dress like a man should is just delicious icing on the cake. Mmmm! Well, I'd better get back for another round of coffee for everyone. No sense leaving folks to lukewarm dregs around here, no sir! I know Johnny won't want any, but how about you two? You boys want me to grab a mug on my way back?" "None for me, thanks," replied Andrew. "Actually, I'd love a cup, please," Bill chimed in. "More manners! Bless me! Well, I'll be back in a jiffy, hon," she said before turning to John. "I don't know how you manage to find so many people with manners in today's world, but I'm glad you do. It gives me hope for the future!" And with that, Mabel swept off back to the kitchen. "She's something else," Bill said with a smile. "She really is," John agreed. "And irreplaceable." "I don't doubt that for an instant," chuckled Bill. John looked at Andrew. "So, you going for the chicken strips this time around?" "Yeah, what are you getting?" "I'm in the mood for a Reuben. How about you, Bill?" "I'm having a hard time deciding," Bill confessed. "But I'm leaning toward the Mushroom Swiss Burger." "Can't go wrong with that one as long as you like mushrooms and Swiss cheese." "I should hope not!" replied Bill vehemently, to which they all laughed. Mabel came by moments later with Bill's coffee, and once they were able to interject their orders into her verbal stream, she left them again. "You ready for tonight, Bill?" "I think so," he replied. "The system looks pretty straightforward and well set up, so I should be good." "Excellent," said a pleased John. "Enough about that, John. No business at lunch, if you please." John looked at Andrew in surprise. Andrew continued apace. "We didn't crash his table for updates on your sound system. So, Bill, what do you do? John tells me you were a school librarian At one point. Are you still doing that?" "Actually, yeah, though I teach some English classes too." "How do you like it?" "Books are my happy place, and I like kids, so it works well for me. Obviously, I guess, since I'm still doing it." "I'm glad you still enjoy it. I know a lot of people who have been at the same job for a while because they feel stuck." "Oh, I'm not stuck," assured Bill. "In fact, the most annoying things about my job are the insider politics (which I have no patience for at all) and the constant barrage of people trying to promote me. Sure, I would make more money, but as long as the bills are paid, I'd rather enjoy my job, thank you. Every principal we've had has been ground into the dirt with all the bickering and power plays, and I want no part of that, no sir!" "So how did you get into the sound guy gig?" "A/V has always been interesting to me. Even when I was a kid, I would find old busted radios and fix them up just for the fun of it. By trial and error, I eventually made a few of my own that worked better than the ones I could buy. So when my nose wasn't buried in a book, my hands were getting dirty with electronics. I don't really run sound very often, actually. I just know Joe from a weekly poker game, and he knows about my hobby, so he asked if I could fill in for him. And here I am." "Cool!" "Plus, it gets me out of the house and keeps me busy. My wife hates it when I fiddle around the house with nothing to do." Andrew chuckled. "My mom's like that. She wages an unending war against what she calls `idle hands.' If you don't look like you are in the middle of something, she has no trouble finding something for you to do." "Well, there is that, for sure, but in my case, she says I get grumpy if I'm not working on a project. For her sake, I've picked up a few hobbies to make sure I'm not restless." "I would have thought that your work would be so busy that you'd welcome downtime." "It can get that way sometimes, but usually work is pretty even-keeled. It doesn't feel like work to me most of the time, so I don't really need much to unwind. I'm usually mentally over work by the time I've driven home." "I need a job that does that for me," Andrew commented wistfully. "What do you do?" Bill asked. "Paper Processor, First Class," Andrew joked. "Seriously though, I process paperwork for home loans. It's tedious and boring, but everyone seems to like my work. Apparently, my attention to detail comes in handy for something." "I'm sure it does," Bill agreed. "You might be surprised how rare that is." "Maybe..." Andrew said. "It's true!" assured Bill. "But what would you rather do?" "If I could choose, I'd like to own and run a nursery." "Really? What kind? One for children, or one for plants?" "Plants," Andrew laughed. "I am not interested in dirty diapers." "Fair enough," Bill laughed. "So what are you doing to get there?" "What?" Andrew looked at him blankly. "How are you planning to own your own nursery?" "Um..." Andrew faltered. "I don't know what to do," he admitted finally. "That's okay," Bill assured him quickly. "Most people don't, but that's why most people don't own their own business. You have to have two things: dedication and a plan. Firstly, you have to decide if you really want that or if it's a pie-in-the-sky daydream." "Well, when I need to go to my `happy place' as you call it, that's what I imagine." "That's good! How often do you think of it?" "Probably twice a day on average," Andrew said thoughtfully. "It ebbs and flows." "Of course! Do you have to do that to get through a normal workday?" "Yeah," Andrew admitted sheepishly. "I know what it looks like in my head down to the colors and the layout of the shop." "From the outside looking in, it's high time you started cooking up a plan then." "But I have a good job now." "Good because it pays, or good because you like it?" "Good because I'm good at it and the benefits are good." "Valid points. It just comes down to whether you are willing to risk those benefits to see if you'd be good at something else. Something that it certainly seems you'd enjoy more." Bill paused. "Okay, getting off my soap box now. I don't mean to be pushy, but I hate to see someone in a job that doesn't fit when there are so many options out there. I have seen so many teachers who loved teaching move up to administration and flounder for years in frustration because they wanted the bigger paycheck. Those people burn out and never have the impact they could have had doing what they loved in the first place. The world isn't fair, that's for sure, but you have to think of how much your frustration is worth in dollars and then go from there." "Thanks," Andrew said. "I appreciate your viewpoint. That's some food for thought for sure." "I hope I didn't overstep here..." Bill began. "Oh no!" Andrew assured him. "I just hadn't thought of things quite that way before." "And how about you, John?" Bill asked. "Oh, I`m moving that way already." "Which way?" Bill probed. "Oh! I forgot you don't already know," he laughed sheepishly. "I work for an insurance agency right now, but I'm already working on my real estate license to start my career as an agent. Along the way, I'm going to develop properties and either sell them or rent them out." "Nice," Bill said warmly. "Is this campground part of that?" "Well, sort of. This is actually the inspiration for my change. It's been in the family for four generations now, but I've only been running the show here for five years." "It looks like you've been doing a great job with it." "Thanks," John said (a little bashfully, to Andrew's surprise). "It hasn't been all me, by any means..." "But you have good staff and work well with them. I've seen it ever since I got here. Do you have a high turnover rate?" "As far as employees? Definitely not." "Then there you go: that is the number one indicator of good management. Bad managers lose people." "What's this about losing people?" asked Mabel as she strode up balancing all three meals with two hands. "We're not losing anyone, are we Johnny? I don't know if I could bear that. Everyone here is like family. Better, actually: we don't have all the drama that comes with family." "I rest my case," said Bill with a big smile. "What case?" "Don't worry, Mabel," John put in hastily. "No one's going anywhere. Bill was just talking to us about good business practices." "Ah, well that makes sense then, I guess. I mean, I don't claim to know anything about business, but I do know there are better places to work than others and there is a reason I haven't left here: I know when I've got it good. Why, some of the stories I hear from people about where they work would shrivel your little heart, it would. I hate to hear that people are in those situations, but it just makes me all the more grateful for what I have. And I'm not leaving, just so you know. I've been here longer than you or even your parents have been breathing, young man, and this is home. And that's all I'll say about that, it is." She gave John an unwavering look and returned to other duties. "Irreplaceable..." Bill said softly. "Let's eat before she thinks we are conspiring to fire her," John suggested, chuckling. "Good idea!" The conversation waned inevitably while they spoke between bites as they ate the hot lunches before them. "So, John," began Bill. "I take it you went to Rigler?" "Yeah," John confirmed. "From kindergarten to sixth grade." "The whole way through then." "Yep." "Were you in any of my classes?" "I don't think you had classes then; I just remember you from the library." "You must be older than you look." "Ha! Maybe. Then again, maybe I just didn't happen to be in them." "Valid point," Bill agreed. "From your reaction when you first saw me in the barn, I thought I'd given you a bad grade that you've never forgiven me for or something." "Not at all!" assured John. "It was just a surprise to see you, that's all. I was just telling Andrew about you a couple days ago and then suddenly there you were. It just caught me off guard." "Telling him about me? How so?" Andrew managed not to choke on his chicken at this, but only barely. John lost a shade of color, but was quick to reply naturally. "I was just reminiscing of teachers I liked during my student days, and you came up." Andrew was laughing hysterically on the inside and trying diligently not to show it. Did John just say Mr. Fletcher `came up' out loud? "Well, it's nice to be remembered," said the apparently oblivious Bill. "You never know what you'll be known for and I'm glad it wasn't for being some pain-in-the-ass who couldn't connect with the kids." "It definitely wasn't that," John assured him. "You connected just great." Andrew started hiccupping. He had bent over his plate as his body shook and his eyes watered from suppressed mirth, and somehow that led to the hiccups, which at least provided some cover for his reactions. "Are you okay?" Bill asked, putting his hand on Andrew's shoulder in concern. "Yeah, I'll be'ee fine," Andrew said. "I just need to rela'ax and I'll be fi'ine." He took a deep breath and willed himself to relax. "You sure?" "Ye'ah, thanks." John had mercifully stopped talking. Contrary to appearances, Bill had not missed a thing. He didn't know the details, but he knew a hastily-formulated cover story when he heard one. You don't get to be a teacher without being able to pick up on that instantly. That sense triggered with John's vague reply about reminiscing. It can't have been just about that, obviously, but he was clueless what it could be. He had a good enough conversational memory and just perverted-enough mind to pick up pieces that could be construed into innuendo, but that didn't help much. He would never have done anything unseemly with any of his students, and knew unequivocally that it couldn't be something like that. But what else could it be? He was not, however, clueless about the flash of warmth that came from Andrew's shoulder upon his instinctual reaction to check on him. It scared him a little, but not as much as his reaction to having them share his table. He had been half hard thinking of the trail scene before they even came into the diner. When they walked up, he was instantly at three-quarter mast. Normally, he would stand to shake hands in greeting upon their arrival, but that was not going to happen in his condition. His condition persisted until the moment he touched Andrew's shoulder... Now he was 100% rock hard and his cock actually hurt as it strained against his clothing. 'This is crazy,' he thought. 'What is going on here? And what do I do now?' ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :) Also, I have had trouble posting consistently lately, so if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-40

Date: Thu, 08 Jun 2023 22:28:57 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man With the Jeep, Chapter 40 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 40 Andrew took some very slow deep breaths and willed himself to relax, and after a few minutes, the hiccups began to subside. He hated hiccups. Luckily, they didn't happen often because they literally hurt every time. And those idiots who felt compelled to say "bless you" after each and every one� He knew they meant well, but he just wanted to punch them in the throat after the second one. One blessing was enough, thank you! Luckily, neither John nor Bill were the persistent blesser-type. "You good?" Bill enquired. "Yeah, thanks," he replied. "'Kay," said Bill as he withdrew his hand. He looked at Andrew for a moment longer as if to be sure he wasn't being lied to. "So, what are you boys up to for the rest of the day? Going to the shindig this evening?" "No," chuckled John. "Not tonight. Not that we have any other plans at the moment, but that might be a little much for us right now." "Oh!" exclaimed Bill, oddly disappointed�and equally pleased. "It's not that we are opposed with the whole thing," John assured him. "I mean obviously, right? It's held here and everything. I used to go all the time, but I don't know if I'm outgrowing it or if I've just been spoiled with my new boyfriend. Andrew, still fixated on relaxing to keep the hiccups at bay, suddenly perked up, but before he could say anything, Bill had jumped back in and turned the conversation a little bit. "How long have you guys been together?" "We've only been official for three weeks now." "No kidding! Well, congratulations!" "Thanks!" Had it really only been three weeks? Andrew wondered to himself. It felt like...well, not forever exactly, but much longer. He knew he had changed so much in that short time� His reverie was shattered upon Mabel's return. "I see all the food met with your approval! Why, it didn't take you much time to down all that, did it? Probably forgot to breathe, I shouldn't wonder. That's always the problem when the food is good: it's hard to slow down and chew, much less savor it. But I'm glad you liked it. If that ever changes, you let me know, because you know I will make it right, you can count on that! Now, what can I get you boys for dessert? Chocolate cake? Banana split? Malt? Another special? If you ate all the rest that fast, there's no way you're full yet, so don't even try to pull the wool over my eyes." "Actually," Andrew started. "Now that you've mentioned all that, the malt sounds really good, please." "Oh, it is, honey! We have a lot of flavors, but chocolate is our most popular one. Would you like that, or a different flavor?" "Chocolate would hit the spot, thank you." "How about you," she asked, looking at Bill. "What would you like to top everything off with?" "I'd like the same, please." "No problem, dear! And how about for you, Johnny boy?" "You know, I think I will follow their lead and get a malt too, but can I get a strawberry one instead of the chocolate?" "Of course, lovey," she said while stacking all the empty plates and silverware improbably onto one hand. "I'll be back in a flash, dearies," she promised as she dashed off again. "So only three weeks?" prompted Bill. "Officially, yes, though we had some dates before that too." "Of course." "How did you guys meet?" "We met at a Chris�I mean holiday party, actually," said John. "One of the loan originators Andrew works for invited a bunch of co-workers and business associates like the insurance agent I work for. She couldn't make it, but wanted to make sure we were represented, so I went on her behalf. I was expecting it to be a total bore, but about twenty minutes in, I bumped into this cute guy at the punch bowl�" "�Literally," interjected Andrew. "He knocked my cup out of my hand and into the punch bowl!" "True," admitted John. "But it's the best clumsy moment of my life, because it got this guy to talk to me." "Hey!" protested Andrew. "What?" asked John. "Can you really say you would have talked to me if I hadn't jarred your elbow." "I�" Andrew paused. "I might have..." "Ha! You weren't even talking to your co-workers!" Bill chuckled. "How do you know that?" inquired Andrew. "I've got eyes," declared John. "Don't I? I immediately noticed you sitting in that quiet little corner just watching everyone else while you nibbled on a little plate of nuts like a squirrel." "Hey!" Andrew said again. "A cute squirrel, I assure you, but come on: they were nuts! Cut me a little slack here!" Andrew quickly realized John was just teasing him. "In fact, I couldn't even tell if we were on the same page, so to speak, until much later. I just knew he was handsome and quiet. After the first twenty minutes, he was still tucked in there and I didn't think there was any way to get him to chat until he went for a drink. A little elbow jostling was the only thing I could come up with to get his attention." "Wait, you did that on purpose?" "Of course! I had to do SOMEthing!" Bill was laughing by this time. "I see you haven't worked out all the mysteries yet," he chuckled. "Definitely not!" confirmed John. "We have many discoveries yet to make." Andrew wasn't sure why he felt that was a statement of portent, but it stuck in his mind from the moment John said it. "I'm guessing the butterflies are still swarming then," Bill asked. "At least if gay relationships are like straight ones." "I don't know about butterflies, but I feel like I'm glowing and I'm having a hard time believing it's even real yet," John admitted. "Aw!" said a smiling Bill. "You really are fresh! That's sweet. How about you?" he asked, turning to Andrew. "I'm good," Andrew said. "'Good'?" questioned Bill. "That's it?" "Yeah," Andrew answered a little meekly. "Andrew has a pretty traditional background," John interjected. "He isn't used to being forward yet." He looked at Andrew. "Correct me if I'm wrong, sexy." Andrew looked clearly uncomfortable but admitted that was pretty much true. "I guess I'm a bit too cynical. I have a hard time thinking of it as real too." Bill nodded. "Sorry, Andrew: I didn't mean to put you on the spot." "It's all good. I need to get out of my comfort zone anyway. I'm just afraid to wake up and find this a dream." "That's natural, bud," said Bill. "I remember I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd either ruin it or my fianc� would suddenly turn into a dragon on me. I felt sure I was missing something." "That's it," admitted Andrew. "It'll work out, buddy. You'll be fine." "Thanks," mumbled Andrew. "I just..." Mabel drew up just then and Andrew let it drop. "Here you are, dearies! Three malts: one strawberry for Johnny here, and a chocolate each for Androo and Bill. I know you boys will like them. Malts are forgotten art in most places these days, but sometimes a shake is a little too sweet, if you know what I mean. Even dessert can use a good kick in the behind every now and then. I will never know why they've fallen out of favor, but we keep the faith alive here, yes, we do! Traditions are abandoned at our own peril, I say. Mark my words: the more we thoughtlessly let things fall by the wayside, the more what is left will fall apart. But listen to me rambling at you poor pets while your malts melt. Let me leave you in peace to enjoy those while you still can." Again, she whisked away to wait on her other customers. They dove into their desserts with gusto and enjoyed them greatly. It wasn't until they were all eaten that Bill spoke up again. "I have to tell you, the entire time we were dating, I kept waiting for my wife to transform into something awful, but she never did. Eventually, the infatuation stuff faded away and there were some aspects of her I hadn't noticed before, but nothing we couldn't work through. I knew it would happen, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. I think it's that way for most people: after the honeymoon phase is over, it's a simple matter of deciding the other person is worth adjusting your own habits to make it better for them. If you both do that, you will be better than fine." Bill paused. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I've gone all Doctor Phil on you guys. Let me just say you guys seem to be a good team." "Thanks," John said. "I feel that way too." "As for me, this is all still a beautiful dream," Andrew said. "I just hope I never wake up." At that, Bill raised his empty malt glass. Andrew and John did the same. "Here's to living life in a dream," he said. "May we never wake up from it!" "Hear, hear" they said as they clinked their empty glasses together. Mabel was there in an instant. "Yes, boys? What can I do for you? I heard clinking. Need another round? You know I don't mind doing that one little bit. I'll be right back in a jiffy with those malts, one strawberry and two chocolate. As you might guess, I am rather good at remembering people's orders. Not usually for long, mind you, but at least as long as you are here. I've learned to do that so it's easier to break up tickets between folks, not that I even need to worry about you boys, but you know a habit is a habit after all. You can't just turn them on and off at whim. You either have them or you don't. But anyway, sit tight and I'll be�" "Mabel!" John interrupted. "We don't need refills, thanks. We were just toasting." She paused for a second, which seemed like forever given her normal speaking speed. "Oh! Well then! Is there anything else I can get you then?" "No thank you, we are finished." "No problem at all, dearie, but of course you are welcome to stay as long as you like." "Thank you, Mabel, you're the best!" She seemed to perk up a bit at that and her full spirits were restored before she headed off to attend other customers. "We should probably head out," began John, "but it was great talking with you, Mist�er, Bill." "Likewise," he replied. "Thanks for joining me!" He traded handshakes with each as they got up. John and Andrew made their way out and crossed the driveway to the office. Once again, the little bell jingled as the opened the door and walked in. "Hey, Johnny," called Amanda. "Hi, Andrew!" "Hey, Amanda," Andrew responded. "Hey, Amanda," John echoed. "How are we doing?" "Oh, fine," she said. "There are still three more cabins to be had." "How about the RVs?" "Not so much action on those this weekend. Half of them are still empty." "Well, I'd rather rent out cabins than RVs anyway." "For sure!" Amanda agreed. "Did you want to grab one while you still can?" "Actually no. Why don't we just take one of the bigger RVs. Who knows, maybe we can sell out all the cabins. That would be nice." "Absolutely. Did you have a particular one in mind?" "How about number 59?" "Sure, that one's still free." "And the adjacent spots?" "Ron is in 57, but the others are still empty. Of course, I do have 60 set aside." "Let me guess," John interrupted. "That one is for Carl." "Got it in one," Amanda confirmed. "The day he makes a reservation before he gets here is the day I buy a lottery ticket." John chuckled. "Me too." "Notorious, is he?" asked Andrew. "That makes him sound bad," said John. "He's a great guy and super nice most of the time, but he never ever calls ahead and then gets bent out of shape if he can't have trailer 60. One time, we couldn't rent it to him because someone had put a deposit down on that trailer specifically. He begrudgingly accepted a different one, but when he found out the people with the reservation never showed up (due to car trouble, apparently), he was upset and never lets us live that down. He would talk about it every time he visited�and still will, given the opportunity. Ever after, we just make sure 30 is set aside for him on these event days." "Wow, some kind of drama," commented Andrew. "Meh," John acknowledged nonchalantly. "Easily avoidable and he's great besides that. Between you and me, I think he has a little OCD going on, but it's all good. We just want to make sure he enjoys his stays with us." "I hope he appreciates who you accommodate him." "Oh, he does. He apologized profusely for his attitude when he returned for the next party. And I'm glad to say he always includes the fact that we have made it right by him since then when he tells his tale anymore." "Yeah, he's alright," Amanda added. "He only had that breakdown the one time, so as long as there is no repeat of that episode, we are good." She held a key out to John. "Here you go! It should be all ready to go, but call me if you need anything." "Will do," he assured her. "Thanks, Amanda." "You got it, Johnny!" They left and clambered into the Jeep once again. "Want to see our new digs for the night?" "Sure, I'm game for that." John backed out of his parking spot and wheeled them back to the Jack in Spades sign, where he turned left. Andrew looked at all the "glamp sites" as John called them while they rambled down the lane. About a third were empty, and all the ones he had seen so far had bugs guts splattered across the front of the accompanying vehicles, so they had to be normal travelers. It wasn't until they hit spot 40 that he saw cleaner trailers all neatly parked in a row without gaps. "Let me guess," he said aloud. "Yep, these are ours. We gradually built this up as circumstances permitted. Whenever we had some extra funds to invest, I'd just start monitoring what was up for sale. If I saw a good deal on a decent trailer that didn't need much work, I'd go for it. I lost a lot from not being quick enough about it, but it was no big deal. This wasn't a high priority, so I didn't stress about it. I just waited for the next one to pop up. I look every now and then still, but I don't think I'll get many more. They have been more popular than I expected though. The weekend wanderers don't need to rent one or worry about having to drive it around with them on iffy roads. "Makes sense to me. I wouldn't want to go through all that. And the cost of RVs has kind of made it a pie-in-the-sky affair for me." "But now you can have your affair here just fine!" John said with a grin. "No points for that one," Andrew stated with a completely straight face. "Oh well, not all my jokes can be funny." John acknowledged. They finally pulled up to space 29, where a big black fifth wheel trailer was parked gleaming in the late afternoon sun. "That one looks sinister," observed Andrew. "I know, right?" smiled John. "All very dramatic. I thought you'd approve." "I do!" "Great! Then grab your gear." They hopped out, snagged their bags from the back of the Jeep, and walked up to the front door. John pulled out the key and unlocked it before turning back to Andrew. "Hold on a sec before you come in." "Okay..." John stepped inside and a moment later two sections began sliding out of the camper. After they stopped moving, John popped his head out. "Okay, come on in!" Andrew stepped in and couldn't help but be impressed. It looked much more like a small high-end living room than it did a trailer. To the left was a pop-out section that included a couple inviting chairs that looked like recliners. On the far wall was a large flat screen TV with two comfy-looking chairs below and a small table between. Facing the TV was a leather sofa, and behind that were two barstools at a kitchen counter that curved around and ended in a peninsula. The kitchen itself was just a little small, but it wouldn't be at all out of place in a high-end New York condo. Just to the right of the entry was a very short hall with a door on the inside wall leading to a pleasant bathroom and a few steps at the end leading up to another door. John led Andrew right up those steps and through the door to find a surprisingly large bedroom. Both sides were extended out, giving the room a very wide feeling, offsetting the slightly short headroom and managing to make the room feel larger than it probably was. In the middle, against all odds, was clearly a king-sized bed. John stopped Andrew right inside the door. "Hey!" Andrew protested. John dropped his bag to the floor, then took Andrew's and tossed it away too. "'Hey' nothing," John replied in a quiet voice. He looked intensely into Andrew's eyes. They were so close their noses nearly touched. Andrew could hear his heart thumping in his chest, smell John's slightly strawberry breath, and found more colors in John's eyes than he had noticed before. John held Andrew firmly by the shoulders. Andrew wasn't frightened by the sudden change in John this time, but what did it mean? What was going to happen now? ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :) Also, I have had trouble posting consistently lately, so if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-61

Date: Sat, 03 Aug 2024 20:31:23 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 61 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 61 It wasn't until they were halfway back to town that Andrew's doldrums faded enough to start getting excited about the prospect of the nursery again. Yeah, it would be a serious project before it would get going, but he wasn't afraid of that. He'd always had a strong work ethic that helped him excel in everything he did, and somehow manual labor felt more honest than what he did at work every day. He had to be realistic that the income ceiling was probably a lot lower than staying in the industry he was already in, but it didn't matter to him as long as he had enough income to live on. In the long term, it was far more important to him that his job be rewarding than living in the lap of luxury. There had been references to an imminent promotion for him lately, but with this nursery he would be at the apex from the very start�-for better or worse. A bit scary, but thrilling at the same time. That was when he knew he had already decided to move forward with it. That was by far the scariest moment yet. And the most exhilarating. "I'm going to do it," he announced to John. "Really? Are you sure?" "Yes," Andrew replied unequivocally. "Wow!" "What, you think I'm making a mistake?" "Not at all! I just thought it would take you a couple more weeks of checking all the angles and a few more panic attacks before you made up your mind," John said half-teasingly. "Not too long ago, you would have been right, but I've recently been challenged to be more decisive, and I just came to the realization that I already know what I'll ultimately decide, so why wait?" "Aw! My boy's all growed up!" John said, reaching over to ruffle Andrew's short hair. "Stop that!" Andrew said sharply, swatting John's hand away even as he secretly reveled in the touch. "My bad," John apologized. "I'm just proud of you for not thinking it to death." "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure there will still be panic attacks before all is said and done." "As long as I'm there to bring you back," John replied. "I'm counting on it." When they pulled up to Andrew's house, it was all Andrew could do not to invite John in, but he knew he would be late for work if they spent the night together and so didn't dare. They kissed goodnight and John headed home after waiting to make sure Andrew had safely opened his front door. Feeling a bit grungy after traipsing around the nursery and old abandoned house, Andrew opted for a quick shower before bed. While he lathered himself up and shampooed his hair, he reflected on the enterprise. It was nice to look over the place--or places, rather�-and finally have an idea of what the rent would look like. All in all, it was a better situation than he could have hoped for. He rinsed off, dried off and went to bed where he promptly dozed off. Though sleep came quickly, it wasn't restful. His brain was in overdrive again and he mentally groaned in frustration. He needed sleep! Why wouldn't his mind let go? His fertile imagination blended impressions and facts and doubts together into a whirling blur of chaos. The old house in the woods came alive with its black window eyes glaring at him and trying to swallow him up with the porch so the railing spindles could chew him up and swallow him down into its basement stomach where he could be dissolved in vats of acid spilling out of black plastic barrels of toxic waste. What had he done to offend the old place? He only wanted to fix it and make it the happy place John remembered from his childhood. What was wrong with that? The house was not impressed. John didn't know everything, the house insisted. He wasn't there. He didn't see what happened behind the walls. He was young and easily impressed. Andrew refused to believe that. Mr. Bradshaw had seemed like a decent guy, if a little gruff. John couldn't be wrong about him! Who said anything about Bradshaw, the house asked. Bradshaw made it out alive and was smart enough to take his children with him. He had his secrets, but I know more than he ever did. He couldn't know. Strangely, Andrew couldn't stop arguing with the house. What's there to tell? A nice family built you, and even if they had secrets like every family, that doesn't mean I can't bring you back to your former glory. Yes, those were glorious days, the house admitted, but they were a long time ago now. Time marches on and everything changes but birth, taxes, and death. I was left abandoned for more than a decade! Do you know what that's like? Unloved, abused, and left to my own defenses? Where's all that glory now, pretty boy? I'm going to bring it back, Andrew insisted. These walls can speak of what they've seen and yet you still refuse to listen, the house spat back with a sneer. What? What are you trying to say to me? Listen, you idiot! Just listen! The house stopped talking and just stared at him pointedly with those devastatingly blank eyes. Andrew strained his ears, but couldn't hear anything at all. No, wait... There was a sound after all. It was quiet. Not a voice. Not the rustling of an animal. Not a footstep. Not creaky stairs. Not even a whisper in the next room over. It was... It was... It was so quiet. If everything else weren't dead silent he wouldn't have heard it at all. The hum was almost invisible. That's it, he noted with relief: it was a hum. But where was it coming from? The angry house gave him no hints, so he reviewed his walk through earlier that day. Nothing in the living room. The piano was soundless. There was nothing in the office either. The weird antechamber had nothing but doors, and while a couple of them had creaky hinges, they didn't come even close to a hum. The dining room was mum as it reminisced of past feasts it had served. The kitchen. It was in here. But the windows, while dirty, were sealed closed. No wind whistled through the walls. The hum haunted him. Like the Telltale Heart, it grew louder until it threatened to drown Andrew's reality in his failure to trace it. It was closer to the door. You're getting warmer, the house declared, finally breaking its taciturnity. Can't you hear that? You can't have me if you don't get it. The fridge! Andrew cried with relief at tracing the sound at long last. But so what? Refrigerators always hum! Do they, the house challenged him. Yes, that's how it cools. It takes electricity and extracts heat via the coils in the back. Everyone knows that. He was still missing something. A dark revelation consumed his thoughts slowly and surely until it shocked him so badly that he sat up with a start, instantly wide awake. That refrigerator was running when they toured the house! The next day, Andrew was an anxious wreck. John finally replied to Andrew's panicked text messages when he woke up the next morning. He assured Andrew that stress from the big decision had made him imagine the running fridge and promised they would go back and check it out on their way back to the Jacks for the weekend. Half-appeased, Andrew knew that would have to suffice since nothing else could be done before then. He tried to have a normal day, but it was like he was in a dark fog. He had trouble focusing and, counterpoint to yesterday, he had the roughest day at work in memory. He made mistakes and had to slow down even more to fix them and make sure all the forms were right before he submitted them. He could only hope those few he got finished wouldn't come back to haunt him later. He had never been so happy for the end of his shift to finally arrive. While yesterday he bounded out at the stroke of five on a mission, today he clocked out at the stroke of five to escape. He drove home slightly dazed and was honestly grateful he made it home safely when he finally pulled into the garage. For the first time since their initial visit to the Jacks, Andrew wasn't ready and waiting when John arrived to pick him up. John walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. When Andrew finally answered the door more than three minutes later, he looked a shadow of his former self with dark eyes and no verve whatsoever. "Oh my God, Andrew!" John exclaimed in dismay. "What's wrong?" "I told you," replied Andrew angrily. "The fridge." "Oh, my love, I told you we'll take care of it." "Yeah, but I can't get it out of my head. It's been killing me all day." "I'm so sorry, Andrew," John said earnestly. "I had no idea it was affecting you so much." He felt miserable. He should have realized Andrew wouldn't be able to let it drop so easily. He pulled Andrew close into a long tight bear hug, but Andrew didn't respond more than automatically. Something was really wrong here. "Tell me," he said gently. Andrew couldn't look him in the eyes. Another bad sign. "Please let me help," John pleaded. "Tell me." "You'll just think I'm stupid, Andrew said woodenly. "No, I won't," John promised. "You know I'll do anything to help." "Can you fight off ghosts, John?" "Ghosts?" "Yes. The house is haunting me." John had to struggle to not make light of that. He didn't believe in ghosts, but it was very clear that Andrew did. "Tell me about it," John said again. Andrew took a long time before he was willing to share. "When I went to bed last night, I could barely sleep. That old house came alive and was trying to eat me. I got it to stop that, but then it was angry and bitter at being abandoned. It kept saying that we don't know what happens behind closed doors. It said we didn't even notice that the fridge was running. I've gone over it over and over all day and I'm absolutely certain the fridge was on when we were there. You remember that, right?" "Honestly, all I remember was you got on me about wanting to open the door." "I wish you had," Andrew said bitterly. "Because now you won't believe me." "Who said I won't believe you?" John challenged. He was a bit miffed that Andrew would doubt him like that, but seriously ashamed to realize that he actually didn't. "You're not the only one who pays attention to his boyfriend," Andrew bristled. "There's no way you'd give me any credence to this. You are the ultimate pragmatist. All facts and efficiency." "Hey!" John protested. "I'm sorry," Andrew backpedaled. "I'm really on edge." "I see that," John replied gently. "Apology accepted. Now let Mr. Pragmatic help if I can." Andrew nodded. He looked more alive than before, so that was something. "First off, why don't we get you cleaned up a little bit and into something more comfortable?" Andrew let him lead him up to his room. "Still want to go out to the Jacks with me this weekend?" "Yeah." Andrew John packed a bag of clothes for him and when he handed him some casual clothes to put on, he didn't complain. "Okay, Andrew. I need you to wash your face and change your clothes. Can you do that?" Andrew nodded. "Good. Try not to take too long, okay? The sooner you are ready to go, the sooner we will get this all cleared up." Andrew nodded again, so John went down to the kitchen to get himself a drink. In the mood for a beer, he opened the refrigerator and was not at all surprised there was nothing remotely like beer to be found. He settled for a lemonade and closed the door before staring at the appliance thoughtfully. Was the fridge in the old Bradshaw place really working? He really couldn't say. It seemed familiar and impossible at the same time. Oh well, he reasoned, wracking his brain wasn't going to change the facts. He would just have to be content to wait until they went back to see for themselves. Not long later, Andrew came down looking noticeably better. Still not his usual polished self, but a considerable step in the right direction. And less vacant, which was worth millions to John. He led the way back out to his car and made sure that Andrew locked his door behind him on the way out. John left Andrew to himself on the drive out to make sure he didn't exacerbate his darkness, but John looked at him frequently to make sure he wasn't sinking further into the gloom as they drove. John pulled right up to the gate as he had the night before and they trudged up to the house on foot. It was much earlier than yesterday, so John hoped the light would dispel some of Andrew's notions of haunting. He unlocked the front door and they headed straight for the kitchen. The refrigerator was dead silent, but after a confirming nod from Andrew, they each took a breath to hold and John opened the door. It was empty. No spoiled food, no old half-used containers, and no mold. In fact, it was spotless. Rather than looking long abandoned, it appeared to have been recently cleaned. Yes, it was too clean by far. They exchanged looks. "Okay, something's going on for sure," John said. "No abandoned fridge is cleaned like this." "So you believe me now?" Andrew asked. "I believed your impression from the start, just to be clear, but now I agree there's weirdness happening." Andrew looked down before pointing at some scrapes in the dirty flooring where the appliance seemed to have been pulled out and then pushed back. "It looks like a smoking gun to me," Andrew commented. "I agree," said John. "But I think we can put the ghost to rest, yeah? Ghosts don't move heavy coolers around." "Then what is it?" "Maybe a squatter?" John offered. Andrew shrugged. "I guess that would fit," he said finally. "Just for grins and giggles, wanna check upstairs?" "Sure," said Andrew with just enough hesitation that John knew it was not his first choice. John boldly led the way up and went straight for the master bedroom, swinging both doors wide open in a sweeping motion. He knew instantly Andrew was completely justified in his anxiety. The gigantic bed was still there just as massive and intimidating as he remembered, but the mattress was the only thing left on it. There were no clothes strewn around like yesterday and the makeshift kitchenette had disappeared as well. The dormer off to the right was likewise devoid of its homey reading nook. He remembered all of it clearly from yesterday's visit, so there was no denying things had changed. But who did it and why just then? Maybe the interloper was there while they were visiting and knew the gig was up. Had the vagabond snuck by them while they were exploring, or did they come upon the house to find them already there and just waited until they left to go in? Another thought occurred to him then. What if they cornered the squatter and the only place to hide was under the big bed? What if they were silently present while he drilled Andrew? It was one thing for Duncan to come across Andrew topping John on his Jeep in the middle of the woods of his own campground. John knew Duncan wouldn't dare tell a soul about that or share the pics he took without John's express permission first (which reminded him that he needed to get copies of all of those from Duncan soon). To have a stranger anonymously present was a different matter entirely. That was not something he could account for. Anything could have happened. What if...? Inadvertently, John's imagination made up another threesome scenario between Andrew and him with a masked man in black jumping out from under the bed. He felt a firm tug in his boxers... ********* What do you think should happen next? I look forward to hearing from you! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-67

Date: Mon, 11 Nov 2024 21:05:30 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 67 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 67 Andrew was terribly embarrassed, but he couldn't take his eyes off Alex. "I'm so sorry," he stammered. "I didn't realize�" and then he trailed off into nothing. "No worries," Alex replied good-naturedly as he gracefully moved to a normal standing posture. "But could you maybe close the door?" "Oh! Yes, of course!" Andrew mumbled, closing the door quickly as he spoke. "Thanks. I'd rather not be completely out in the open even though I have nothing to hide." No, you don't, Andrew thought. It felt like ripping Velcro to peel his gaze away from the stunning man before him, but he managed it and made it into the stall to do his business. He dropped his drawers and sat down, but he was too hard to do anything. `Go down, go down, go down, go down,' Andrew thought to his raging dick. `Go down!' "It really is nice to meet you," Alex said from the other side of the partition. "John and Thea both rave about you, and I have to say you seem pretty cool to me too." "Thanks man," he said out loud. "You seem great too�just as John described you." He heard the urinal flush and pictured Alex folding that precious hose back into his pants and closing the front. Alex continued chatting as if it was the most normal thing in the world to converse in the restroom. Andrew had never been comfortable doing that, and this was definitely no exception. "What do you do for work again?" "Glorified paper pusher," Andrew managed to get out. "Oh yeah," Alex said as he turned on the water to wash his hands. "For some reason I was thinking of gardens and plants." Andrew could feel himself being pulled into the conversation despite his reticence, but the more Alex talked, the less Andrew could think about anything besides him and his amazing body standing at the sink less than ten feet away. He was probably gazing at his richly dark curly hair, immaculate complexion, and impossibly perfect teeth in the mirror with his piercing blue eyes to make sure he was still presentable. As if he wouldn't be absolutely breathtaking no matter how disheveled he could possibly become. "Well, I am getting ready to open my own nursery," Andrew replied. "Oh yeah! That's what I was thinking of," Alex responded as he pulled paper towels out of the dispenser. "When does that open?" "I'm not sure yet," Andrew admitted. "I hope to get started next month, but it will be a lot of work before I can open. The place was abandoned years ago." "I remember a place like that out on the highway," Alex said as he dried his hands. "Kind of by The Jacks, I think." "That's the place," Andrew confirmed. "Wow, you have your work cut out for you!" Alex exclaimed heartily. "I wish you best of luck on that." "Thanks." "See you out there," Alex said as he opened the door. "Will do!" Andrew replied. He heard the door thud shut softly. Finally alone. With a throbbing boner. He had to piss, but that was impossible when he was hard. And he was too amped up to relax enough to drop a number two. While he waited for himself to deflate, he reflected on what had just happened. Blindsided first thing by the unexpected sight of Alex's glory and then sucked into conversation while he sat on the pot. He wondered how abnormal he had sounded. Was his distraction obvious? Did he answer Alex promptly, or was there a time delay from his "dickstraction?" He had no idea. All he could do was hope for the best. These sobering questions and the absence of his muse helped his ardor subside enough to get his business done. Eventually. When he finally made it out, he made his way back to the table where John was still waiting for him. Thea had returned while Andrew was absent, and they were chatting it up and laughing like the good friends they were. Andrew hadn't been there a minute before Alex also came back to the table. He caught an odd look on John's face for just an instant as he looked from Andrew to Alex and then back to Andrew. What was that about, Andrew wondered. "Did you fall in or something?" John smilingly asked him with a friendly poke in the ribs. "I thought I was going to have to go rescue you." "Sorry," the suddenly red-faced Andrew replied. "I'm fine though." "As long as you're good," answered John. Andrew noticed another quick flick of John's eyes toward Alex before the topic was mercifully changed. The four of them traded stories of adventure, past glories, and future plans. It turned out Alex had always wanted to be a chef, so he was on that track and had no regrets. In his spare time, he was trying to unearth the oldest Greek recipes he could find to see if there were ways to incorporate them into the restaurant's menu to elevate it beyond the norm and add some distinctive character. John reiterated to Alex and Thea what he told Andrew before about growing into a minor real estate mogul, possibly starting with Andrew's house if he was amenable during his transition from clerk to CEO of a nursery. This spawned several stories of their young antics at the greenhouse, where they regularly made nuisances of themselves to the poor Bradshaws just trying to keep their business afloat as the three terrors ran roughshod through their plants. For her part, Thea didn't overly mind working at the restaurant, though she would much prefer to be a curator or docent at the cultural museum downtown. "I like being around people and helping my family, knowing that this place will stay with our family for generations, but I also love teaching people, and there's not as much of that around here." "Did you get a degree in anything?" asked Andrew. "Yeah, in history, but there's no money there, really." "Unless you are a docent or something like you were talking about." "Maybe." "You could also teach classes at the university." "I think I'd like that," Thea said. "I think I probably make more money here, but a teaching schedule sounds better, so I'm not sure." "Good point," Andrew acceded. The more time he spent chatting and getting to know Alex and Thea, the more he appreciated what nice people they were, inside and out. The rest of the day passed more quickly than it seemed it should have, which to Andrew always meant time well spent. As the night approached and then progressed, families started leaving one by one, generally by the age of the youngest or oldest member of the family. There were few left by the time John and Andrew decided to call it a night. Ever since his first visit to the restroom, Andrew felt that there was something off between him and John. There were enough conversations and things happening throughout the party that Andrew put this puzzle on the back burner of his mind to focus on being in the moment, but now that the party had died down, it was coming back to the fore. As they made their way to the car, John said very little. To be fair, neither did Andrew, but that wasn't too far out of the ordinary for him. What John did say was normal, although it seemed less vibrant somehow. If he hadn't clued in to it earlier, Andrew would have simply chalked it up to being tired, but now he suspected it may be due to something else. Then the thought dawned on him that whatever it was that was bothering him could have happened even earlier than that. But how far back? After mulling it over for a while, he finally decided to grab the bull by the horns. "So, what's up with you?" he asked John directly. "Nothing, why?" "You seem quieter than normal." "I do?" "Yes, you do." "I'm sorry." "You don't need to apologize," Andrew said quickly. "I'm just worried about you." "No need to worry about me," John assured him. "I'm fine." "Are you sure? I thought you might just be tired, but I feel like there's something else going on that I don't know about." "No," John said. "You definitely know everything." "Okay," Andrew replied. "Just to remind you, I'm here for you for the long haul." "Thanks," John answered. "I appreciate that." After that, Andrew stopped trying to coax more out of him. He was not in any way appeased though. In fact, those were the last words they spoke during the admittedly short drive to Andrew's house from the party. Andrew grew more and more certain something was up, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and if John didn't want to talk about it, he was not about to try to force it. That never went well in his experience. John pulled the car into Andrew's driveway and up to the garage. "There you are, my love," he said. "Did you have fun?" "Yeah. It was really nice getting to know your grandparents, Alex, and Thea. And you already know how much I love to spend any time with you I can." "I do?" John asked with a smile. "Well, I have spent every weekend and most lunch hours with you, after all," he said, grinning. "That's true," John admitted. "Though I'm hoping you don't feel obliged to." "Oh my god, John. I may not like conflict, but if I weren't interested, you'd know it. I'm not good at hiding stuff like that, as you well know." "I do," John confirmed. "Thank you for spending the weekend with me. I hope it was worth your while." "Always," Andrew said as he leaned in for a kiss. "I love you." "I love you too," John said before meeting Andrew's lips with his own. More than a token peck and less than a passionate face mauling, it was the perfect good night kiss. It was the last perfect thing of Andrew's week. John had to cancel their ongoing lunch date three out of the next five weekdays and the remaining two were as subdued as the post-party drive home had been. Then he left for another unexpected work trip for the weekend. Andrew could barely admit to himself that it was a good thing because he had been procrastinating on several things around the house that needed to be done�especially if he was going to sell it. That part he could grudgingly acknowledge. What he couldn't fathom was John's change in behavior and demeanor. He thought things to death as they went round and round in his head and he exhausted his memory wracking it for clues. It was like the lights went out at the party and Andrew couldn't for the life of him find the switch to flip it back on. He even went so far as to call The Jacks to get in touch with Coop to connect with Joe (whom he hadn't even met yet) to find Bill Fletcher's number and talk it over with him. Bill couldn't shed any more light on the subject than Andrew himself, but it was comforting to have someone to talk to, and he encouraged Andrew to have patience and wait it out. He seemed certain that John would clue him in when he was ready. But all week and into the next one, he could only think about one thing: What was up with John? John dropped off Andrew and headed back to his loft. Inside, he was seething. He thought he had covered his frustration and doubt pretty well, but he should have known Andrew was too sharp not to see through his smokescreen. Okay, maybe not see through it entirely, but he knew things were different and then turned that steel trap mind his way. John didn't dare give him even the breath of a hint as to what was bothering him. As if it was a mystery, he laughed to himself darkly. I literally watched him and Grandpa Liam get it on. He doesn't say a word about it. And then conveniently has to go to the bathroom seconds after Alex heads for the kitchen right next to it? And they don't even have the courtesy of staggering their return time in getting back to the table? As if I won't suspect a thing! It wasn't the fact that he played with them as much as the fact that he kept it from me. How dense does he think I am? I'm not stupid, he thought angrily. He clomped his way up to his apartment in a foul mood and even chamomile tea didn't help him sleep that night. He made up excuses to bail on lunch with Andrew on Monday and Tuesday, too worked up to be in the mood for a nice civil lunch. He knew he needed some way to vent, or this was not going to be pretty. Tuesday evening, he called his cousin Brady. "Journey's Inn," said the voice on the other end of the line. "Hey Brady, it's John." "Howdy, sir! What can I do for you?" "You're free tonight, right?" "Round about ten I will be." "Excellent. Meet me at the Jacks then." "Yes, sir, I'll be there as quickly as I can." "See you then," John said before hanging up. Brady often helped him out when he was frustrated and floundering, so hopefully that would work this time around too. He stewed some more while he waited for the appointed time. What did Andrew expect him to do? Just go on like nothing has changed? But they have! Nothing stays the same. It's the only constant in life besides death and taxes, right? Just to give himself something to do, he made himself some dinner that he was probably not going to eat. He decided on a souffle, and beating the eggs by hand proved therapeutic as he took out some of his pent-up anger on the eggs. Far too soon, they were at the perfect consistency. He proceeded to bake it, and it turned out to be perhaps the best one he had ever made. Good enough that he ate the entire thing after all, which was good since he had skipped both breakfast and lunch. He beat the rugs out on the balcony, scoured the bathroom clean, and swept the place while he waited for the appointed hour. As the hour approached, he changed out of his cleaning clothes and into something more appropriate. When it was time, he made his way down to the car, fighting to keep from sprinting the entire way and taking the steps three at a time. It had been a long time since he was this anxious. He made his way out of town and then set the cruise control when he reached the highway to make sure he didn't drive too fast or aggressively, knowing that it was pointless to get there early. When he got there, he pulled onto Jacks Road and sailed right past the office and the diner and past the campsites and RVs. Shortly after those, he turned down the dirt driveway that led into the trees and drove until he pulled up to the big old barn. He saw Brady's ancient but immaculate old Ford truck and parked next to it, already feeling better. He opened the rustic old door latch and reveled in the sound of the creaky old barn door as he slid it open. There were no lights on, but he didn't need them. He knew this place like the back of his hand, and he knew exactly where Brady would be. He made his way through the dressing room and around the corner, where weak moonlight had made it through some of the windows to give a faint blue hue to a few scattered spots around the cavernous space. He made his way to the stage in the very center of the room. The moonlight was conveniently reflected by the chrome edges of the stair treads, so he walked up them and then stopped to turn back. He tapped around to one side of the top step with his foot until he found what he was looking for. When he stepped on it with his foot, a single light lit up behind him. On the opposite side of the top step was a small stack of perfectly folded clothes. He turned toward the light, which was hung directly above the center of the stage. There, standing on his knees and buck naked except for a blindfold and a bulldog harness, was Brady. ********* Thanks for reading my tale! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks again for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-54

Date: Mon, 06 May 2024 21:54:02 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 54 Please consider donating something to support Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 54 As Andrew opened the door with that unmistakable familiarity of someone coming home, John first noticed the welcoming living room. It wasn't updated to the latest trends and none of the furniture seemed to be part of the same set, but they all went together more or less and exuded relaxing comfort. This was clearly a place to enjoy company. Lots of company even, as there were more chairs than he was used to. The end tables and coffee table were scuffed from lots of use, but also dust free and polished with care. To one side of the slightly faded rose-colored overstuffed couch was a dark green wingback chair with a tiny pattern to it that looked equally stuffed. On the other side was a smaller mint-colored velvet chair with a short back that scalloped into armrests. And so it went around the room with comfortable seating that each claimed a different hue from the Thomas Kincaid painting hanging behind the couch. There were no doilies to be seen, but they wouldn't look out of place here. Scattered among the chairs were a few small bookcases, and the remaining wall space was occupied by old family photos and a few decorative Bible verses. He almost didn't even see the small TV tucked away in an unobtrusive corner of the room. "Mom, I'm home!" Andrew called out. "Hi honey," John heard a voice say. "We're in the kitchen!" Andrew led John through the adjacent dining room with its set of table and chairs that featured a carved edge and elegantly curved and tapered legs. A matching buffet hutch set against one wall displayed some pretty dishes with delicate rose designs. A small chandelier with multifaceted glass and gold trim hung in the middle, happily scattering its glittery golden light around the room. They emerged into the bright kitchen next, where Andrew immediately got a big hug from his mom. Gail was 5'5" and slightly overweight with light brown hair that had a wispy waviness to it, lending her a somewhat seventies vibe. "I love you, honey," she said, giving Andrew an extra squeeze in the middle of her hug. "And you must be John," she said after she was done with her hug. "I am," he said with a smile. She reached out to grab his nearest hand in both of hers and looked him directly in the eye. "It's so nice to meet you," she said earnestly. "I'm Gail. Welcome to our home." Her warm manner was effervescent, and John liked her instantly. "Thank you," he replied. "It's good to finally meet you! He talks about you all the time." "He does, does he? Well, that's nice," she said, clearly pleased. "And this is Thomas, our birthday boy today," she added, turning to gesture toward the young man in the middle of getting off the bar stool he was sitting on at the kitchen counter. Thomas came up extended hand first, which John gladly shook. He was shorter and stouter than Andrew, but the family resemblance was clear. Like most firefighters John knew, he obviously spent time working out, and his grip was accordingly firm. "Nice to meet you," he said. "Likewise," John replied. "Happy birthday!" "Thanks." "Where's Dad?" Andrew asked. "He went out to get something to grille," Gail explained. "We were supposed to have lasagna, but I got a little behind from making the cake, so we changed the menu." "Oh no, TomTom!" Andrew teased. "Will you survive?" "Hardy har har," Thomas retorted. "It's been a thing for him for years, but sometimes you just have to make the best of it," Gail explained to John with a shrug. "It's fine, Mom, really. It's not that big a deal." John could tell from her expression that she was disappointed in herself for not getting the lasagna done like she'd planned, and that Thomas's assurances weren't really enough to let herself off the hook for her "failure." John saw instantly where Andrew got that trait from. "So what's the plan today?" John asked in an effort to help Gail change her train of thought. "Rick is going to fire up the grille and get started on the meat as soon as he gets home, which should be any minute," said Gail. "I need to finish up the potato salad, but everything else is ready. Grace should be here soon too. After we eat, we usually play a game of cards while the kids play downstairs before we do cake and presents. That's pretty much it. It's a school night, so we won't be late." "I have tomorrow off," said Thomas. "So I'll be meeting up with some buddies later on. You guys are welcome to join us if you want." "We work tomorrow too," said John. "But if you don't mind us cutting out early, that could be fun." "Great!" The conversation was interrupted with a commotion at the front door. "I guess Grace is here," chuckled Gail. Whooping and running feet warned of an imminent barrage just before two little bodies rounded the corner and launched themselves at Gail. "Grammy!" they cried with glee. "Hello there, my munchkins! How are you?" "Good," Taylor answered. "We're here for uncle TomTom's cake!" "After lunch," Gail said firmly. "Not before." "Okay, but I want the very second piece." "Hey, that's not fair!" complained Dalton. "So?" retorted Taylor. "Guys, knock it off and leave Grammy alone," said Grace as she walked in with Emma beside her. "We talked about this, right?" "Yeah," admitted Taylor. Dalton looked up at Andrew. "Uncle Andrew, are you going downstairs?" "Yeah, bud; I'll be down in a little bit." "Cool!" And with that, the two whirlwinds were off. Emma gave her grandma a hug before following them down. Damage control done, Grace noticed John. "Are you the infamous John?" "Infamous?" "Well, all the talk was about you last time once Andrew finally fessed up he had a boyfriend." "Guilty as charged then," John laughed. A dark-haired man carrying a bunch of bags came in behind her. "Roger, this is John, Andrew's boyfriend," Grace said. "Hold on a sec," Roger said as he put the bags down on the counter and then offered his hand to John. "Nice to meet you, John." "Likewise," he said, taking the proffered hand. "Now, how can I help?" "Honestly, there's not much to do yet," Gail said. "We're just waiting for Rick." "You said he would get here anytime, right?" "Yeah, why?" "Is the grille gas or charcoal?" "Charcoal." "I can get that started at least so it's ready to go when he gets here." "Sounds good," Gail decided. "Roger, could you show him where the stuff is?" "Sure." Roger led him out the back door where there was a paved patio with a pergola overhead. To one side was a typical stainless steel grille, and on the other was a wall with a door that turned out to lead into the garage. They found the briquets and got them started in the grille. "I hope I'm not disrupting things by being here," John confided to Roger. "Why would you think that?" Roger asked him. "I just know Andrew grew up pretty conservatively, so I don't want to muck things up with his family." "You mean about being gay and all that?" "Yeah. My family isn't like that at all, so this is kind of new territory for me." "I think you're fine," Roger assured him. "They really are a good family. They may be a little old school in some ways, but they respect people, which is better than most, sad to say. Even if they have reservations, they wouldn't take it out on you or Andrew." "That's reassuring. I kind of got that impression from how Andrew talked about them, but I did want to get your take on it." "I get that. Not a problem." They went back inside to find the party had moved out to the living room. John was a little surprised to see Andrew still among them. A tall Scandinavian-looking man with white hair was there as well. John stepped forward. "Mr. Olsen, I presume?" "Yes," the man confirmed. "But please call me Rick. You must be John." "Yes sir." "Nice to meet you," Rick replied with a brief handshake. He turned to Gail. "I'm going to get this stuff going." "Sounds good, dear. John started the grille for you." "Did he?" he said, turning to look at John again with no change in his expression before he made his way to the back door. John looked quizzically at Andrew, who shrugged. "He's just like that. Don't worry, you'll get used to it." "I see," John replied slowly before the glimmer of a grin formed around his mouth. "I thought you would be down with the Legos by now," he teased. "I normally would, but I didn't want to leave you up here all alone when you met Dad for the first time." "You're so thoughtful," John said. "But I'm pretty sure I heard you promise Dalton you'd be down there. Go have fun. I'll be fine." "Are you sure?" Andrew asked, looking uncertain. "Yes," answered Gail. "I promise we won't tear his head off, honey." "Besides," Grace added. "You know your Lego races are the highlight of visiting Grammy's house." Andrew smiled a little at that. "Okay," he finally said. "I'll be down there if you need me." And headed downstairs. "Have fun," John called after him. "So," began Gail. "What do you do?" "I'm a paper pusher for an insurance agency." "Oh really? Sounds important." "Definitely important, if not very exciting." "Yes, well, excitement doesn't usually put a lot of food on the table, does it?" "Not usually, no," John agreed. "That's why we pay for excitement on the weekends, right?" "I think I get more than my fair share of excitement every day without paying a cent, thank you!" Grace declared. "I imagine you do," laughed John. "But thank you for what you do. Without good mothers, this world would be in a bigger pickle than it is." "I know I'm lucky," Thomas chimed in. "I found a paying job with excitement built in." "That you did," acknowledged John. "Apparently it's just me who missed the boat." "It's not just you," Roger said. "Mechanics don't get much excitement unless we forget to connect the brake line or set something on fire." Grace gave him a look to which Roger put both hands up. "Neither of which has happened to me. Well, maybe a little fire here or there, but quickly dealt with and so there's not much adventure to it." "As I was saying, John," interjected Gail. "It sounds like a nice stable job with a future." "True, but I'm kind of wanting to try something new." "Like what?" "I'm working to become a realtor." "I suppose that's a good field too," Gail said with less confidence. "It can be a little more volatile, for sure," John admitted. "But I like meeting people and helping them, so I think it would be good. I get kind of bored if I spend too much time behind a desk." "Me too," said Thomas. "I figure if I can get some property that I can rent out, it could help stabilize my income during the lulls." "It sounds like you have a plan," Gail conceded. "I hope it works out well for you." "It should, knock on wood." "Did you grow up here in town, John?" "Yeah, I went to Lincoln High." "Ah, so across town then." "Yes, ma'am. Until I graduated high school and then went away for a while before I came back." "Oh really? Where did you go?" "I joined the military, so all over the place." "Well thank you for your service. I know that can be a huge sacrifice." "Thank you, ma'am. It was an honor." "And forgive me for asking, but are you a Christian?" This was the one question John knew would come up. He was able to gloss over other things easily enough, but this was probably The Big Question for Andrew's family, and he was getting it on day one. Knowing it was imminent, John was somewhat prepared for it, but he still had to take a pause before answering. "I have to admit I wouldn't say I am," he replied. "I grew up without any religion at all. And honestly, I've always viewed religions with a healthy dose of wariness because of how I see religious people treat other people, whether they agree with them or not. Andrew has been completely different from what I expected when he told me he was. He has told me about his faith, and he lives his life that way without any hypocrisy at all. I respect that immensely. He has certainly given me food for thought, but as of now, I'd have to say no." Gail looked a little disappointed, but not judgmental as John expected. "Fair enough," she said after a pause. "I can't fathom life without my faith, but I also know we are all on our own journey. I just pray we all end up in truth while we still have the time to get there." "I agree," John said graciously. He could still feel tension in the room as always happened when religion was discussed, though he wasn't sure if it was just him or not, so he changed the subject as was his habit. "How about them Cowboys?" he asked. Thomas chuckled, but all he got were blank stares from everyone else. "Sorry, old school sports joke." Still nothing. Oh well. "What kind of cards do you generally play?" "It depends on how many play," replied Grace. "If four or less, usually Spite and Malice. If four or more, Canasta. We'll also sometimes play Settlers of Catan or Uno if the kids want to play too." "Ah!" said John. "So that's why he taught me those ones!" "That would make sense," Grace agreed. "What does your family do for fun?" "Tackle football." Grace looked slightly aghast, Thomas and Roger both perked up, and Gail clearly couldn't decide how to react. "Really?" "I'm exaggerating a little, but I have a big family, so we usually do something active outdoors. It just depends on where we are and how big a field or yard we have. Anything from croquet to volleyball to tag to football. Of course, if there's a pool, that always wins." "Wow," exclaimed Thomas. "That sounds fun." "Always," confirmed John. "We tend to be a rowdy bunch. We can usually avoid injuries though." "I think I'd better see how Rick is doing," Gail said as she got up from her chair. "Let us know if it's time to set up, Mom," said Grace. "Okay." "Do you really play sports with your family or are you just pulling our leg?" asked Thomas. "We really do things outside," John assured him. "If we were at the camp, we'd even get into Capture the Flag or paint ball or something." "That sounds like summer camp," laughed Thomas. "I mean, if you're there, why not?" "True!" "My family doesn't even play board games," chuckled Roger ruefully. "Okay guys," called Gail from the kitchen. "Meat is almost ready!" They all got up and headed to the kitchen to help set up for lunch. Once the table was set, Grace went down to collect Andrew and the kids while Roger and Gail stepped outside to help bring in the meat. No sooner had the back door closed when Thomas spun around to face John. "What?" asked the surprised John. "You're coming tonight, right?" "For the after party?" John joked. "Yeah," Thomas confirmed in all seriousness. "It's going to be at a bar." "Okay." "That's still cool?" "Yeah, we'll be there." "Great! I really want to ask�-" Just then, the back door opened and the kids came bounding into the room, and Thomas abruptly cut himself short. ********* What do you think should happen next? Tell me your thoughts! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-51

Date: Fri, 22 Mar 2024 15:05:34 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 51 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 51 "And what about you?" asked John. "What do you mean?" "I just told you my life story," John laughed. "Please sir, could you spare a penny for a pauper?" "Oh, please," Andrew groaned. "Tell me something about your past. Surely you can share something that I don't know." "But my life is so boring!" Andrew protested. "Is it? I wouldn't know..." "Okay, okay," Andrew relented. "But if you nod off, I'm just going to stop." "Deal!" agreed John. Andrew wondered for a moment where to start, but decided to take his cue from John. "Unlike you, I did not grow up in a `loud and active' home. It was more reserved than that. That's not to say we didn't have our fair share of happenings, but it was always less boisterous than anything you've ever talked about. "My parents met at church, so I guess that was kind of the anchor that dictated how we lived. We were there Sunday mornings, Wednesday nights, and usually two other nights a week. I talked about my grandma before, and my parents were mostly like that too: everything revolved around God. I mean, our schedule went off of the church's, and our actions revolved around what we learned there. "At some point in my teens, I realized what having faith in God meant, and the religion stuff faded more into the background for me. That made everything simultaneously easier and harder, because now I was desperate to find real truth and connect with God, but�-and I know you're going to laugh when I say this�-I wasn't so concerned about being good all the time. "I wasn't afraid to challenge basic assumptions because I figured truth could handle it and nothing else would. But as I got more outspoken, I realized people in church have the same strengths, failings, prejudices, worries, perspectives, and passions as anyone outside the church. Instead of helping me, they usually just decided I was rebelling and made life miserable for me. It felt like they were more openly judgmental, but it was always couched in Christian terminology as if that gave them the high ground or something. "I remember at a Bible study one time, we were all asked if we as Christians were better, worse, or the same as sinners, and I think that was when things kind of crystallized for me. While others gave their answers (usually `better,' of course), I realized that the only answer I could give was all three at the same time: better, because we know the truth; worse, because there is no way we can live up to it; and the same, because the value of our souls is not more or less the value of anyone else's. I don't think many got what I was saying though, because they all started trying to argue with me after that. "Anyway, while all this was going on, I was on the worship team and in some bands, so that really became my outlet." "Wait," interrupted John. "You were in bands? You never told me that! What did you play?" "I was just a singer for most of it, though I learned to play bass guitar later since I could never get a bassist to show up for practices." "Hold on," John said. "When you said `band,' I was thinking like marching band. But if you're a singer, then..." "Try rock band," Andrew laughed. "What?!" "I also did a techno album once, though it wasn't as good." "WHAT?!?! You've been holding out on me!" Andrew smiled. "It just hadn't come up yet." "So, what kind of rock?" "My first band was called Maestro and The Imaginary Numbers. It was supposed to be emo, but that never really got off the ground. For the bands after that, it mostly depended on which guitarists we had. It went anywhere from acoustic to pop to metal." "And techno?" "I suppose that label's a little optimistic, but it's definitely electronica. I did that one when I was between bands before I learned the bass. I had an old Playstation 2 and a game called `MTV Music Generator 2.' I was just messing around with it for fun when my sister mentioned she was looking for workout music, so I thought `why not?'" My roommate at the time was borrowing a 4-track recorder, and when he went to work one day, I figured out how to use it, and recorded five songs before he got home." "No kidding!" "Yeah," Andrew confirmed. "You should have seen me recording it, too. I only had a super cheap little karaoke microphone with a really short cord, and of course the soundtrack had to be routed from the Playstation through my TV, so there were cords everywhere. I had to punch `record' on the recorder, then use the game controller to start the soundtrack, then practically curl into a pretzel to be able to see the screen and still have the mic close enough to use properly." "That sounds too funny!" "It was!" Andrew agreed. "And I had to do it several times, of course. I would finish a track I was satisfied with and then I had to go back and do it over again for each of the background vocals I wanted." "You did your own background vocals too?" "Well, of course! No one else was there, and I didn't know how long my roommate would have the recorder." "That's crazy!" Andrew beamed. "When my roommate got home, he was nice enough to promise to finish it for me. He seemed especially impressed that all my backing tracks were sung in key too, so that was pretty flattering. He even pulled out his guitar and we recorded an acoustic ballad for my mom." "Wow!" exclaimed John. "And you said your life was boring!" "It mostly is," Andrew said with a shrug. "But I've always loved music and I miss being in a band and performing. It's like a therapeutic outlet where I have almost an alter ego. I often dream of picking it up again, but it takes time, so I don't know if I'll get the chance." "Oh, come on," John protested. "If you want to do it, we can make it happen." "And open a nursery at the same time?" Andrew challenged him. "I don't think I can swing both." "You don't have to do them simultaneously. I'm just saying if you want to get back into that, I would be happy to help. When you feel the timing is right. If it works as your therapy, I'm doubly behind you�-even if you never join another band and tour the country, you could still play locally." John suggested. "I know of a venue that would be happy to have you play," he added with a wink. "We were never big enough to tour," Andrew laughed. "We barely managed to do any recording." "It's all good," John assured him. "But when can I hear your stuff?" "I'll send it to you if you want," Andrew offered. "Just remember it was a long time ago and I never thought it was particularly good." "We both know you wouldn't even if it was the next `Thriller,' John teased. "I can tell you it's no `Thriller,' that's for sure!" "I will be looking forward to it either way," John promised. Andrew was pleased that John was so enthusiastic about his music. He hadn't heard a single note yet, though, so Andrew didn't expect it to last. He didn't think it was terrible or anything, but it certainly didn't seem to be worthy of radio play. But he also knew that John held therapeutic practices in high regard, so he would probably still push for Andrew to get back to it. Who knows, maybe he could actually get good one day... "You haven't told me what you thought about the place," John said with a sweeping gesture to indicate his home. "I like it," Andrew said. "It's so light in here!" "Today it is," John agreed. "It really depends on the weather, though." "All these windows are just incredible!" "That was what hooked me too. And the price was right, so here I am." "I have to say, I was expecting another bait and switch until the moment you opened the door," confessed Andrew. "Really?" "Yeah. I mean that old Quonset hut, the outhouse, the grotto, the barn... It always seems that things will be more than meets the eye with you." "Maybe at camp, but not here in town. I can't afford stuff like that. And honestly, I don't actually like a lot of show." "Says the man with a hidden sauna, secret straps, and a high-tech multimedia system in an outhouse!" retorted Andrew. "I thought you said you designed that entire thing!" "I did, but there are always reasons for those things. When I'm home, I just like to be comfortable and not worry about stuff. This place is low maintenance and comfortable. It's almost like being outside with all these windows. And you should see this place at night." "I'd like that." "Then stay the night with me tonight." "Of course!" came the reply before the kiss. A kiss that was suddenly cut short when Andrew jerked with a start. "Wait a second," he said. "Reasons? What reasons?" Caught off guard, John was lost for a moment. "What reasons?" he finally asked. "Yes," Andrew declared. "You just said there were reasons for the way you designed the outhouse." "There are." "What are they? I've asked before, but you evaded answering, so I'm asking again." "Fair enough!" John chuckled. "But first, take another crack at figuring it out. I think you have all pieces now." "Okay," Andrew relented. "Let's see... You told me pointblank that the outhouse was your contribution to the property itself." "Right." "You also told me that your mom made the barn." "Well, it was already there, but she repurposed it and spruced it up." "So the outhouse was built after the barn." "Yeah." "Which means those sex parties were already a thing." "Indeed they were," John confirmed with a growing smirk. "The only reason for one way mirror glass is to watch without being seen." "Yup." "Did you really build the entire thing just to shoot porn in?" Andrew asked incredulously. "You got it!" John crowed. "I originally just wanted a genuine pit stop for stair climbers and hikers, but then I thought I might as well make a porn set out of it while I was at it. There's money to be made there, and sometimes the barn isn't adequate for what they look for." Andrew gasped. "Is that why all the cabins are different from each other too?" he asked incredulously. "No," laughed John. "Like I said, those were built long before my time, though I have started to renovate some of them. Now that you mention it, maybe I should put those out as options too." "Might as well," replied Andrew. "Might as well," echoed John. "You realize you have me at a disadvantage now, right?" he asked after a moment. "What?" "You've had me spill my guts and figured out the secrets of my outhouse. How am I going to keep you interested when you've solved all the mysteries?" "I have an idea about that," Andrew assured him. "You do? I'm all ears!" "Oh no you're not," he said, reaching between John's legs. "There is way more to you than ears." He felt the lump he had grabbed harden and lengthen as soon as he laid hold of it and John made a low growl. Andrew took a firm grasp of John's tool through his thin lounge pants and pulled him to his feet before leading him up the stairs to the low bed, where he spun him around and pushed him down onto his back to land on the big puffy comforter. John was surprised, but still wore a huge smile-�which was all he wore about a second later after Andrew yanked off the pajamas. John sighed as Andrew dove down to the rigid pole that was reaching for the sky. Maybe it was because of his chagrin at not recognizing it on video, or maybe it was simply because of all the brilliant daylight that flooded the loft, but Andrew was super aware of every curve, vein, and ridge on John's cock. He drank it in, firmly committing it to memory in every way. He wanted to be able to pick it out from a police lineup. He had no idea where that image came from, but it was a hot one and fed his ardor. He almost got distracted wondering if every dick on the planet was different, like a fingerprint or an iris scan. Later: he was busy now! He pulled it this way and that, getting a look at every conceivable angle, admiring the texture of the skin, the straightness of the shaft, the thickness, the heft... Every movement Andrew made and every hot breath he blew on it made it even harder. So hard, in fact, Andrew imagined he could see the pulsing of the veins themselves as blood flowed in to strengthen it even more. It was getting more difficult to move as it engorged with excitement. It was even changing color to a darker hue. Andrew drew closer to it and breathed it in, relishing the smell of John's crotch: sweat, pre-cum, and that unmistakable John musk all combined for a heady mix. He'd have no trouble identifying that smell! He stuck out his tongue and tapped the very tip to savor the bead of pre-cum sitting there. He leaned in and kissed it gently, making it jump just a tad. He moved his kisses around the head... under the flare of it...slowly making his way down the shaft, making sure not to miss a single spot Then the tongue came out again, licking and tasting its way back up, taking its time and driving John to frustration. Andrew opened wide and put his lips around as much of the shaft as he could from the side, never letting his tongue break contact. He slid his mouth up and down the shaft, moving around and changing his angle so no side was neglected. John began to whimper a little bit, but he was paid no heed. Only when he was satisfied that he had gotten John to maximum mast did Andrew finally engulf the head of John's cock into his mouth. He just held it there with the mushroom top in the warm cavity, sucking on it like a giant nipple. If there was any reserve left to make that tool more monstrous, it was capped out then. Andrew slid a little farther down the shaft before pulling back to the head again. John grunted as Andrew repeated the maneuver, going just barely farther down. And again. And again. It was almost mathematical in the infinitesimal progress he made with each successive plunge down the pole. A long time later, Andrew finally reached the very bottom with his nose buried in John's pubes. In all their playtimes, Andrew was usually just shy of this goal, but somehow the gradual progression helped him to accommodate the entire thing this time around. He slowly and methodically slid up and down John's cock from the very tip to the very base several times, reveling in his accomplishment. John was not small, especially when properly worked up like he was now. Indeed, it seemed more massive than ever, yet Andrew had managed to swallow it all! He sucked on it until John started grunting. Nope! Andrew jumped off it quickly, leaving it straining and pulsing for release. Not yet... He went back to kissing his way down the pole and into John's groin. He kissed his way through the luxurious bush of curly hair and up the wide treasure trail to cover his stomach with more kisses before he broke out his tongue once more. He lapped and kissed at John's abdomen as he slowly worked his way up. He felt he could sense the tension in John's straining poker, but he continued to tease and explore the dense expanse of flesh that was beneath him. Before too long, he had reached the lower edges of John's pecs, which he worked over just as patiently and thoroughly as he had his stomach. John's nipples did provide some distraction, though. They were just too perfect and primed to ignore, so Andrew spent some special time on them, sucking on them, swirling them around with his tongue, and nipping at them with his teeth to bring out little yips from John. He gradually moved upwards until he was kissing and nuzzling John's neck and under his jaw. This part made John a bit squirmy as though he was being deliciously tickled. Andrew continued until he was sure he had left a nice hickey in one spot wickedly chosen to not be easy to hide with a collared shirt. He had finally reached John's mouth now, and they made out as if they hadn't in months, full of intensity, passion, and drive. Trying to devour each other's mouths simultaneously, their tongues dueled and their teeth nipped and pulled at each other's lips until they were swollen. With a sigh of pleasure and a hint of regret, Andrew pulled back and sat up on his haunches. He reached around and stroked John's turgid pole a few times. "Ready for the next step?" "Heck yes," John replied breathlessly. "Okay," replied Andrew. "Move around a little bit so your head is up against the backboard. I want you get a good view." "Yes sir!" agreed John at once, eager as ever to put himself in Andrew's tight hole. He adjusted his position and Andrew moved accordingly. Andrew spit into his hand, reached back and pulled on John's cock a few times. "Sure you're ready?" he asked. "Yes sir!" John repeated. Andrew grinned down at him. "Okay then." He let go of John's cock and suddenly slapped John's balls smartly. "Ah!" howled John at the sharp unexpected pain, put Andrew cut him short by shoving his cock deep into his wide open mouth. "You said you were ready," Andrew declared with an evil smirk. ********* If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-63

Date: Wed, 11 Sep 2024 21:19:09 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 63 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 63 Andrew dropped his bags in surprise. The view was breathtaking. An enormous glass wall directly in front of him presented an incredible view of the valley below. It was above the tree tops similar to the first landing on the stairs above the outhouse, but the framing effect of the windows gave it decidedly more drama. It was set slightly back from the edge, with raw rock forming a ledge below and a slightly longer overhang above that gave some shade. It was impressive. Between where he was standing and the panoramic view was a sunken living room accessed to the right and left by way of a sloping ramp on one side and shallow steps on the other. It was populated with comfortable-looking seating and several small tables. He never imagined the words "overstuffed" and "clean lines" could be used to describe the same item, but those were great descriptors for what he beheld. Directly in front of him on this higher level was a long...bar? Desk? Whatever it was had a few bar stools below it. It wasn't too deep, but had a small lip on the back side and curved elegantly around to meet the handrails on either side. Above was a large circular lighting fixture that looked vaguely like a compass. Rather than hang down like a chandelier, it was very low profile and seemed to be made of the same material as the lights from the outhouse, giving off smooth light from clean white panels. Dividing trim radiated out from between concentric seams. As he studied it, he saw that the roof was not finished, but rather more raw rock as seen surrounding the glass in front. Even the surrounding wall that curved around with its thin vertical wood strips had uneven top edges where it met the rock above. "Is this a natural cave?" he asked in awe. "It is," John confirmed. "My grands wanted to leave it as natural as possible and designed the entire place around the existing cavern. They had to drill a few holes for ventilation and plumbing and of course the inclinator, but other than that, everything here is suspended inside the opening without damaging the rock." "It's amazing," Andrew breathed. "I've never seen anything like it." "They would love to hear you say that. They were inspired by the cliff dwellings around the Four Corners." "I can totally see that now that you mention it." "They actually had a hard time finding an architect that could grasp their vision." "I can imagine," Andrew commented. "This is truly singular." "Here, let me show you the rest of it." To the right of the elevator�-inclinator, Andrew corrected himself�was a very nice kitchen. There was a pass-through that could be opened between the kitchen and the main room, no doubt useful when entertaining guests. Next to it, unsurprisingly, was a dining room that kept to the theme of simplicity throughout the place. The next doorway revealed a spacious bedroom with an ensuite. The wall to the right was a continuation of the glass from the main room, though in here the trimmed glass butted up against the outlines of the mouth of the cave, forming interesting contrasting shapes. The far wall curved up and over with all its natural texture and coloring. The room seemed oddly devoid of something, and it took a minute for Andrew to put his finger on it. "There's no dresser or closet in here?" "Actually, there is tons of storage in here," John grinned. He turned to the wall through which they entered and demonstrated that the three-dimensional panels that covered the wall were actually drawers, flip open cabinets, and opening panels, and not just decoration as Andrew had supposed. "This is some master," Andrew said. "Classy without being too showy." "This isn't the master," John said with a grin. "This is the guest room." John led Andrew back to the lift. Behind where Andrew had been standing when he initially opened his eyes was a plain unadorned wall with a large subtle mural with muted Southwestern American colors and motifs. It was benign enough to be overlooked completely at first glance, but the more Andrew looked, the more details he saw. "I have a feeling I could get lost in this," he admitted. "Yeah, it's kind of crazy how it sneaks up on you, isn't it?" "Definitely." The other side of that wall proved to be the screen side of a small theater where the roof tapered down and the floor ramped up toward the back, forming a cozy yet appropriate room. Next to it was a half-bath, followed by a small simple room with nothing in it but a chair. Andrew quirked an eyebrow at John. "It's Grandma's craft room. All the walls fold out and down for different things she likes to do. I don't even know if any of that is in here though," he chuckled. "She does all that in Palm Springs now." The next room was the master suite, which was similar to the guest room, but about 50% larger and a much larger bathroom (mostly to accommodate wheelchairs just in case John's "grands" lost mobility, Andrew later found out). It paradoxically seemed somehow more inviting than the other room, but that may have been more to do with the sun setting in the view outside casting warm hues of red and orange into the room. It seemed almost on fire. They meandered back out into the main room and enjoyed the arresting view. "So, what do you think?" "It's amazing," Andrew said." But..." "Yes? "How many more buildings do you guys have around here? This is getting ridiculous." "Fair enough," John laughed. "There is only one more place that you haven't seen yet." "Is it on this scale too?" "Oh no!" John assured him. "I mean maybe in terms of square feet, but the last one is just a normal log cabin." "Normal..." Andrew said slowly. "Honestly," John insisted. "My parents and aunts and uncles built that one and they couldn't afford all the extravagance." "We'll see," Andrew said dubiously, only half believing him. "Yes, you will, but not this weekend." "Okay," Andrew agreed. "So what did you have in mind for this weekend?" "Well, the big thing was to show you this place," John began. "After that..." "Are you trying to tell me that you haven't mapped it all out from start to finish? You know that's a tougher pill to swallow than your idea of a normal log cabin, right?" John got a twinkle in his eye before he leaned a little closer. "I'm sorry, my hearing is going in and out. What did you say? I got distracted by `swallow' and `log' and kind of lost track." "You're such a pervert!" "Don't start pretending you don't like it now!" John protested. "Maybe I've been acting all along," Andrew suggested with an impish grin. "I don't buy it," John said. "Your co-star is too convincing." "My co-star?" asked a confused Andrew. "Yes. Your co-star is a bit too easy to read," John declared as he groped Andrew's package. Andrew's heart rate instantly bumped at the touch. Andrew blushed a little (why was he still doing that?) and half-heartedly brushed John's hand away from his rising member. John leaned in even closer. "I think you might actually like me, Andrew Olsen. I know I like you." With that, he took one of Andrew's unsuspecting hands and laid it on his dick. It wasn't soft. It wasn't slightly swollen. It was rock hard. "You've captured me, Mr. Olsen. Heart, mind, soul, and body, and I'm all yours." "Are you really?" "Yes, I really am." "Show me," Andrew demanded. John dove the rest of the way in for a kiss as he reached around and cupped an ass cheek in each hand. Andrew melted in response, kissing back furiously as John kneaded his buns. But not to be outdone, he reached around John and grabbed his firm melons and pulled them apart while they continued to make out. John began kissing Andrew's neck and Andrew automatically leaned his head back to give him better access. John responded by tightening his grip on Andrew's ass and pulling him tighter to himself, their constrained cocks battling for position as they were mashed together. Andrew whimpered at the onslaught, almost breathless at the exquisite torture that John's soft lips, wriggling tongue, and scratchy stubble provided. But as much as Andrew writhed from the tickling kisses, John held an incredibly firm hold of him, not letting him get away. Before Andrew knew it, John had laid him down on the bed and continued to maul him with kisses and licks and caresses. Andrew had no idea he had been carried or even which bed he was on, and cared even less. This handsome scruffy man consumed his attention with earthy smells, subtle rising growls, body heat, and aggressive contact, and nothing else mattered. His shirt didn't stay on his body for very long as John worked his way down, down, down Andrew. He was stark naked soon thereafter and John continued to work him over, barely giving him a chance to breathe. Finally, John stroked the head of Andrew's cock with his tongue as he kissed up and down the shaft. Andrew began thrusting for more and more contact. John teased him for a very short time before diving down and swallowing him all the way to the root. "Ohhhhh!" cried out Andrew as John's warm mouth did amazing things to his dick. John's head rose and fell as he gave Andrew all the feels he could muster. John moaned at the delicious taste of Andrew's pre-cum as Andrew's moans picked up from John's ministrations. Andrew could feel the tension inside him building for climax, but it was too soon and he wasn't ready. He started tapping John on the head, who gave him no heed until Andrew pounded his temples to get him to release his throbbing manhood. John finally let his dick free. "Ow!" he protested. "Too soon," Andrew gasped. "I want more first." And with that, he flipped a surprised John off of him, yanked off his pants, and pushed him back over onto his stomach. "What�" began John before Andrew's tongue in his hole quickly stole his attention. "Mmmmm..." John wiggled his butt around trying to get more of Andrew's tongue inside until he finally moved back onto his knees and thrust his round ass back and up. He was rewarded for his efforts with more of Andrew's wet tongue inside him and hot breath on his backside. Andrew's assault picked up, purposely driving into John with even more abandon and intensity. John panted and moaned for more while Andrew pulled his ass wide open, exposing that promising pink winker for even more attention. Andrew drilled with his tongue as deep as he could, intermingled with pushing his nose inside every now and then to help loosen John up for what they both knew was coming. Andrew felt around and found John's pole was still hard as steel and leaking just like his was. Andrew knew exactly what he was going do in that moment. He straightened himself up as much as he could while still drilling John with his tongue, collected some of that leaking love juice from John's tap and mixed it with his own as he smeared it on his mushroom head. Now ready, he withdrew his tongue, and before John could protest, replaced it with his fuck pole in one strong sudden push. John roared in surprise even as he shoved back on Andrew to get more of that hot invader inside him. That was all the confirmation Andrew needed for a go-ahead, and he was suddenly plowing that hot ass with abandon. He shoved deep and hard over and over, slapping John's ass as he went. John grunted in time to Andrew's thrusts, still not used to getting pounded, let alone with Andrew's newfound intensity. Sweat poured off Andrew as he drilled John mercilessly beneath him. John gripped the bed covers tightly as he held on and tried not to be thrown across the bed while Andrew thrashed him from behind. John knew he'd shot long ago, probably with Andrew's second thrust, but there was no stopping him at this point. Andrew's sweat mingled with the pre-cum lube, making them slick together and matting down the forest of hair on John's ass. "Yeah!" John yelled. "Shove me full of that seed, Andrew! Feed me!" "You want this load?" Andrew growled back "Do you?" "Yeah! Give it to me! I want it all!" "Good, `cuz here it comes!" And with another roar, he flooded John's hole with his pent-up load of creamy sperm. "Uhn!" he cried as he pumped his load deeper into John. "Uhn! Uhhhhn!" "Damn, boy!" John yelled. "Are you okay in there, Johnny?" called a very female voice. ********* What do you think should happen next? I look forward to hearing from you! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-49

Date: Sun, 03 Mar 2024 02:05:18 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 49 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 49 Andrew shot instantly. He was ramping up like normal, but as soon as he recognized John, it was all over with a bang. And over it really was. No sooner did he spew his seed than he started to go soft. Andrew was absolutely alarmed at that: he was secretly proud that he never went soft right away and his cock stayed awake for a bit after sharing its load, but it was already completely flaccid now. If it wasn't for the trace of dribble at the tip and the cum still oozing down the wall, he would have thought he just imagined his climax of just a few moments ago. Onscreen, John was still drilling away lustily at the beaten blonde, but Andrew suddenly couldn't handle that, and closed the window with a hasty click before collapsing into his chair with a huff. He couldn't decide if he felt hurt, disgusted, envious, turned on, betrayed, or something else entirely. Maybe none of the above. Probably all of them. It was too much to process at once. His first thought, of course, was to berate himself for trusting John and scheme a quick break-up, but he cut that short quickly. He had recently determined to turn over a new leaf and stop looking for the exit, and damned if he wasn't going to abide by it. But with his go-to reaction gone, what now? This was one of those moments when he wished he had a close confidant. John was fast filling that role lately, but that obviously wouldn't work this time. The only person he felt more connected to was his mom, and that was even more unthinkable: `Hi, mom! I just saw my new boyfriend in a porno! What should I do?' No, that was not going to happen. Ever. He went through the short list of people he trusted, but none seemed right. Mr. Fletcher came to mind, and though they'd only just recently met, he had really helped Andrew get his perspective in order before. Andrew felt him a good sounding board with the added bonus that he didn't really know him that well and could easily never talk to him again if he was wrong. But he had no way to contact him, so Andrew just stewed in his own thoughts, trying desperately to identify his feelings and reconcile them with his thoughts. While his body mindlessly cleaned his jizz from the wall and the desk, he pondered. The video was clearly the hottest thing he had seen today, but what made it so? The beaten blonde didn't look too dissimilar from himself and the appeal of sexual aggression John had recently awoken in him was on full display, so maybe he could put himself in that scenario more easily than the others. But then there was John. Andrew felt like he should have recognized his cock the moment it appeared, but he didn't. It looked larger than life on screen, though now that he thought about it, he remembered that it seems larger than life even in real life too, so that shouldn't have made any difference. It made him wonder if he was as attentive as he liked to think if he couldn't recognize his own boyfriend's dick. Maybe he spent too much time with his eyes closed while interacting with it. Or maybe he was too busy reading John's face for reactions or staring into the bottomless pools that were his eyes. Ultimately, he decided that it was probably the sheer unlikelihood of it all that prevented him from connecting the dots. Still... Whether or not he recognized John's tool there was no denying how hot his man looked in the black leather boots, the black leather cap, and the black leather bulldog harness. His rebellious dick even manage to stir a little bit at the image seared into Andrew's memory. Oh yeah. Smoking hot! No wonder he shot immediately! But the quick wilting? What was that all about? He thought about that for a long time, but he guessed it boiled down to the very same element that had captured his attention with the video in the first place. In his fantasy, Andrew could picture himself in the scene, but when John unexpectedly came onscreen, reality encroached and reminded him that he was not in the scene at all. He was jealous that there was a stranger in his place with the man he loved. The man he loved. That was when it dawned on him that he really and truly did love John. He spent so long mulling over things that he had calmed down considerably by this time. There was no way to know when this video was filmed. It could have been a month ago or years before just as easily. Come to think of it, Andrew wasn't even sure how old John actually was. From all the stories that John had to tell, he may very well be older than Andrew would dare guess. Not that it mattered in the slightest to Andrew. Relationships are not about age. They are about connection. And honesty. So why didn't John tell him about doing porn? Was he purposely keeping this a secret from Andrew? Were there more? What else didn't Andrew know about him? Despite all the stories, Andrew didn't really know much about John's background. That didn't bother him before now, but that was starting to change. It was time to borrow a page from John's book and actively pay attention so he could string together a bigger picture out of the vignettes John shared. But even then, it was going to take a while. Hmmm. Andrew considered a more direct approach. Despite John's propensity to set the stage with a few key tidbits and then challenge Andrew to figure it out, Andrew doubted he would avoid direct questions. Naturally, the key would be asking the right questions. This was almost completely opposite to his normal mode of conversation. He tended to be a listener, asking just enough questions to get people to talk. Whether from loneliness, egoism, or just the need to vent, he found most people would run quite happily with the merest of opportunity. He'd have to be strategic this time to get the answers he sought, so this promised to be a fun challenge. He also knew that John was bound to ask him about his past too. Unfortunate, because his life had been so boring. Andrew was sure John would have a hard time staying awake for it. It's not like he had a past life as a porn star, apparently unlike someone else he could name... What if he pretended to be as upset with the porn as he originally thought he was just to mess with John? No, that might prove to be too much for John and push him over the edge. He shouldn't go there. He'd put John through enough. He needed to be nicer to him. Thinking of that made him a little sad. He truly hadn't meant to be so high maintenance, but as he thought about it from John's perspective, he realized he could appear to be resisting every effort John had put forth to build a grounded relationship. Not intentionally, but his own insecurities and doubts must have made it seem like working with Jell-O. He managed to maintain a detached view of himself for once as he reviewed the last month with John. He could see himself waffling with self-abasement and fear. He could also see John steadily coaxing him into new things. What was that about? Why would he do such a thing? Did John have an ulterior motive? He always made a big deal out of getting Andrew to solve various mysteries of one kind or another, so surely he wouldn't begrudge Andrew from delving into that conundrum. Unless all the other ones were to distract him from some greater overarching scheme... Andrew couldn't believe that. Even though John may not be upfront about everything, he had been too consistently supportive to warrant suspicion about his intentions. Andrew's conversation with...Bill? Mr. Fletcher? What was he going to call him? He would probably be "Mr. Fletcher" forever as far as John was concerned, but Andrew already thought of him more as a friend or mentor, so he was going to go with "Bill." His conversation with Bill had opened his eyes a little bit to his own blindness as far as John was concerned. John was sure to have some weaknesses. He was definitely more cocksure than most guys Andrew knew, but that was on the outside. He knew that an air of confidence is often the perfect mask for uncertainty and humor often covers up despair. And by this logic, his numerous friends could be a result of counteracting loneliness. Something niggled at his mind at that thought. He had already noticed how many people called John "Master" or "Sir," but now equally stark was the accompanying surprise and comments about how pleased people were that he had a boyfriend. One or two could be coincidence, but now he noticed it was much more of a trend than he realized. It was the few who DIDN'T express that sentiment who stood out. Those friendships were clearly genuine, so that kind of reaction encouraged Andrew a great deal. If they believed he was overdue to have a boyfriend, John couldn't be the player that Andrew had been waiting to discover he was. And if he wasn't, Andrew was overdue to begin contributing to this relationship. Infatuation and sex were fun, but that's as much as Andrew had provided up to now. He needed to step up his game, so to speak. He could only hope that Bill's assessment was correct and John couldn't see all of Andrew's weaknesses yet. Maybe he had time to get himself on track before John's euphoria faded away. Maybe he could prove himself worthy of all the investment John had put into him already. Yeah, it was time to grow up and act like a man. ********* I know this is a shorter chapter, but this seemed like an excellent place to stop. And you get an installment that much quicker too :-). Trust me, there is tons more on the way! Also, if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-65

Date: Sun, 13 Oct 2024 16:07:57 +0000 From: DurtyRiter <DurtyRiter@protonmail.com> Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 65 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 65 John stirred in his sleep and realized he was thirsty. After a few minutes, he knew he would never get back to sleep until he had something to moisten his throat, so he begrudgingly acknowledged he would have to get out of bed. However, he was so comfortable with Andrew in his arms that it took a bit longer to actually move. He tried his best not to disturb Andrew as he disentangled himself, but he could hear Andrew's breathing change. "I need some water," he whispered to Andrew. "Would you like some?" Andrew gave no response other than his breathing going back down to sleep level. John padded out to the kitchen and poured himself a tall glass of water, which he forced himself to take his time with and sip instead of just throwing it down in a few frat-boy chugs. He quietly put the glass in the dishwasher and turned out the light before heading back to his room. As he walked in the doorway, he was startled to see a figure standing over the bed vaguely illuminated in the moonlight. He managed to pause before his initial reaction kicked in of rushing the intruder, and saw it was Grandpa. He was naked and just standing there half hard. Was he sleepwalking? John had to admit he was in great shape for his age. He wasn't exactly a model or anything, but he kept active and didn't have flab or even much sag happening. And his hairy chest was robust as ever. He hoped (not for the first time) that he inherited the prominent genes from this side of the family rather than his mother's side, who tended to get rounder as they aged. John took a step forward into the room before Andrew stunned him motionless: "Are you going to get in here, you loon, or just stand there?" Surely John imagined that! Andrew couldn't have really-Ñ But then he saw his grandfather's cock jump and he quickly slid in under the covers behind Andrew. That confirmed he hadn't imagined it. Or did it? This was all very surreal, and John had a hard time wrapping his head around his mostly timid Andrew inviting his boyfriend's gramps to join him in bed. John realized he had inadvertently set the stage a bit by outlining his family's unusual philosophy on sexuality, but he was still a bit incredulous that Andrew would jump into it so quicklyÑ-even as he saw it happening right before his eyes. He continued to battle with his contradictory feelings and thoughts as he watched someone take his place with Andrew. The jealousy was acute and that was by far the most surprising reaction he had. He had always thought of himself as accommodating and even liberal in his relationship paradigms, but apparently not as much as he thought. And for it to come to the fore due to a family member was almost embarrassing. While it was hot and fun to incorporate a third to spice things up and challenge Andrew, being supplanted entirely proved a bit unpleasant in the moment. And what about his grandfather? He was watching that horny old dog, whom he loved very much, clearly slide his member up and down Andrew's private valley. What was he thinking? He was probably thinking John wouldn't mind. After all, it was nearly family tradition. But he didn't even ask! Being taken for granted like that shafed. Big time. John knew full well he wouldn't have said no on his own account, but he would have made sure Andrew was amenable first. He had thought that point was still a bit down the road, but he was suddenly disabused of that notion. "I'm too tired for you to just tease me with that," he heard Andrew whisper from the bed. "If you want in, just do it already." The shock hit John again. He discovered the crux of his unsettling: he had misread Andrew somehow and he really did not enjoy being wrong. It shook his confidence. He listened to Andrew's hushed moans as Grandpa drilled him with quiet grunts and heavy breathing. Neither seemed to have any qualms about the situation, certainly. And despite his mental commotion, John was hard too. That couldn't be helped. Any sex triggered him like that. He inevitably imagined Andrew's smooth sexy body before him, pushing that fine ass onto his throbbing meat and grasping and pulling it into his warm silky insides. John had no clue he was stroking his steel hard pole as he pictured it. Then he was suddenly in Andrew's spot, feeling his granddad's carpeted pecs crushing against his back as he was held in place by strong arms. The long firm pole reaching deep inside him, rubbing his prostate in just the right way to make him hot and beg for more. He recalled that Gramps knew exactly how to use that thing perfectly, taking full advantage of both his length and his stamina. He was like a wolverine: focused, patient, and driven by his end goal. And the goal was always that full and explosive blast of hot man milk he would inject into that hungry hole. Knowing that same dick made is father and had later made his father feel the same way he had made John feelÑ-and made Andrew feel right now... John realized how close he was just in time to cup his free hand and catch his load before it sprayed everywhere. He could barely contain the load, and he could feel it start to ooze around his fingers. Not wanting to make a mess he'd have to clean up later, he put his free hand down to catch any last dribbles and lifted his full hand up to his mouth and lapped up his own hot cum. His tool was still drooling when he noticed the movement on the bed suddenly stopped. He knew what that meant. Andrew was getting his fill right now. His cock gave a couple more weak sympathetic pulses that gave very little splooge from his spent balls. He pinched the tip to draw out the last of it and licked that hand clean too. Standing there with two sticky hands just wouldn't do, so he turned around and retraced his steps to the kitchen to wash his hands. How was he going to deal with this? Suddenly he chided himself with a silent chuckle. He was the one pushing for Andrew to explore things and challenge himself. And this was hardly out of character for Grandpa. What was there for him to do? Nothing had really changed except he had underestimated Andrew a little bit. Noted. Now it was time to move on. There was a bit of irony here that Andrew triggered all this in his head. He wondered if it might be similar to how Andrew processed things all the time. How exhausting! He definitely preferred his think quickly/make decisions/move forward approach. He would have to give that boy more consideration for that in the future. But for now, he was tired and needed to get back to bed. He made his way back to his room and paused in the doorway. Grandpa had gotten out of the bed by now and John could hear him moving around in the bathroom. With the moonlight playing with the features of his ears, Andrew was asleep again. John just watched him for a bit before Liam came out of the bathroom. His grandfather joined him there at the doorway and followed John's gaze. "He's certainly a good one, Johnny. Smart, sensitive, and hot as hell. Thank you for that. I needed it badly!" As if I had anything to do with it, thought John with just a trace of bitterness. But there was no need to be rude. "My pleasure, Grandpa," he heard himself say, stepping aside so Liam could leave and go back to his room. Next time, please ask, John added silently in his head. He still stood in the doorway for a bit, trying to weigh how this newfound information would affect things. Andrew was apparently okay with an open relationship, his reticence and shyness notwithstanding. And he had decisively made himself part of John's family in one fell swoop. Maybe he hadn't been pushing Andrew as much as he had feared after all. All this thought was giving him a headache and making him sleepy, so he finally made his way to the bed and re-took his place around Andrew. It really was uncanny how well they fit together like this, he thought. He sighed a little and nuzzled the back of Andrew's neck that tasted mildly of salty sweat. And willed himself to relax. It didn't work. It was like this new information had nowhere to go, which rankled him. Maybe it was the surprise of his discovery, or maybe it was because he was tired, but he was having a hard time letting go tonight. He was normally very good at picking out the relevant parts, making a decision, and discarding the rest, but not this time. The scene he had just witnessed went around and around his head. He couldn't reconcile what he'd seen with what he thought he knew of Andrew, and he was so tired right now that he had trouble keeping focus. And without focus, he couldn't make a plan and let go, so the vicious cycle continued. He felt like he was missing something, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He saw what he saw. He heard what he heard. He remembered everything Andrew said and studied his reactions to things. All the plans he made were tailored for Andrew. It took time, but he was worth it. Andrew probably wouldn't believe it, but he had spent more time thinking about him than anything else ever since they met. Even work, though he spent more time there. The truth was John knew his productivity in the office was waning as he constantly found himself distracted with Andrew. It wasn't at all Andrew's fault. It was all on John, and he owned up to it without equivocation. He needed to reel himself in a bit and keep his boat afloat, so to speak, before his own life sank under his efforts to help Andrew be successful and fulfill his dreams. He tried to convince himself it was all for Andrew's benefit, but he was also quite aware that his interest was somewhat biased too. If Andrew moved forward with the greenhouse, John could use his house as a springboard into a new career himself. If Andrew continued to loosen up a little bit, John wouldn't have to be so careful in how he brought up things about himself that weren't... What was the word? Common? Normal? Conventional! That's the word he was looking for. He wanted to be completely open and honest with Andrew, but he was afraid of the unconventional elements causing a rift between them. He had already broached all the big ones he could think of, but he was still careful in how he addressed them. It would be nice to not be afraid of pushing Andrew away with some random remark made with reckless abandon. Just because John brought up his "quirks" didn't necessarily mean that Andrew grasped them in their entirety. Scratch that. He knew Andrew understood much more than he let on. It was almost scary how sharp that boy was. He had the capacity to understand things outside of his own experience, which was a trait in rare supply these days. And here he was fretting about a harmless midnight tryst. Grow up, John. What did you expect? He expected Andrew to listen to his perspective, understand it, and make his own decisions about it. Which is exactly what he did. Okay then. Eventually, John did get some sleep, even if it was in small chunks frequently interrupted by dreams. When he woke the next morning, he was alone in the bed. The sun had apparently been up for a while and burned off all the morning mist, because it was quite bright and less golden than he was used to. He rubbed his eyes a bit and reached for his boxers and a t-shirt before tossing the covers back and getting up to take his morning piss. As he washed his hands at the sink, he glanced at himself in the mirror and was unimpressed. He looked like he had a minor hangover with dark droopy eyes, stubbly face, and thrashed hair. He looked like a mugshot. Oh well. He needed coffee before he could tackle that today. He went into the kitchen to find a pajama-clad Andrew merrily chatting away with his grandparents. Grandma noticed him just a moment later. "Good morning, Johnny! Would you like some breakfast?" she asked. "Coffee," he mumbled. "It's already there on the hutch for you, dear," she replied sweetly. "Your breakfast will be ready to eat about the same time as you regain consciousness." John managed a small smile of grateful acknowledgement as he made for the wake-up brew. "Thank you, Gram." Grandpa gave him a "Good morning" as well, followed by Andrew. "Good morning, John. Are you feeling okay?" "Meh," he replied, trying not to be grumpy. "I just had a little trouble sleeping last night, that's all." "I'm sorry, love." "I should be okay once I get some coffee in me." John was grateful Andrew didn't pursue it anymore, but rather went back to chatting with Liam. "So, when we went back last night after work, all this stuff was cleared out. It was really creepy and strange. John thinks there was a squatter in the house, so we're going to change all the locks first thing." "Good plan," Liam said. "I'm a big believer in security. To me, it's less about losing stuff as much as it is about the safety of my family and knowing some stranger can come in at any time. That just doesn't work for me." "I get it," Andrew said. "I want a clean slate and not have to look over my shoulder. Especially out here. In town, I know who my neighbors are if I need help, but there's no one out here." "There are more than you might expect," Liam said with a smile. "But that's a good point. It's always best to be as self-sufficient as you can, and neighbors can always help as backups. Besides, there's always someone awake and alert at the Jacks, and that's pretty close." "I'm counting on it," Andrew replied. "Good, good," Liam said. "What kind of timeframe are you thinking to get all this going?" "I have a few more details to look into, but I'm aiming for a month out." "Exciting! I miss those days, to be honest. I'm a little too settled and stagnate these days," he admitted. "Well maybe you can mix it up a little bit and do some of the grocery shopping sometimes," Nora suggested. "That would be something new for you." "If you want me to, I will, honey, but it's not the same as starting a new enterprise." "I know, dear. But I have to say I really enjoy seeing you more often now that you aren't doing that anymore." "You know that's the only reason I retired, sweetheart. It was past time to prove to you that you are worth more to me than the thrill of business." Despite being happy for them and knowing they had a genuinely strong bond between them, John thought it was a bit too early to handle all this sweetness. Luckily, the conversation turned before he got up to leave. "And what do you boys have planned for the day?" Nora asked Andrew. He just shrugged and looked askance to John. "Alex and Althea's grandmother has a birthday party this afternoon, but I was originally thinking we'd just chill out here until then, if that's still okay." "Sure!" she agreed. "We can play some more cards after breakfast if you guys are up for it. We still need a tie-breaker game since we each have two wins from yesterday." "That sounds perfect." Shortly thereafter, Nora served them some Craisin oatmeal and oranges. Throughout breakfast and the ensuing card game, John noticed absolutely no awkwardness or uneasiness on Andrew's part and only negligible lingering looks at Andrew on the part of his grandfather. Before they knew it, it was time to get ready for the party. John and Andrew retreated into their room to shave, shower, and get dressed. "I do really like your grandparents," Andrew confessed as he fished around his bag for his electric razor. "You know, I did pick up on that," John said as he slathered his face with cream. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Andrew turned to look at him oddly. His tone must have been off a bit from the nonchalance he was going for. After a moment, Andrew turned on his face mower and conversation wasn't possible. John chastised himself as he shaved, telling himself to let go of last night already. It was in the past and he was bound to mess things up if he didn't move on. They finished at their sinks and were once again ready for the shower at the same time. John turned on the water and got in first, and without missing a beat, Andrew jumped in behind him and shut the door. John turned to see Andrew grinning at him. "When in Rome..." he said. John smiled back. "Here, let me get your back," Andrew offered. He promptly soaped up his hands and stroked and caressed John from neck to ankles with them, spending a bit more time than necessary on his hairy derriere. "How are you feeling down here?" he asked as he massaged John's crack and teased the little hole in the middle. "Just a little butt-hurt," John confessed, not managing to avoid adding a little honest innuendo for Andrew to pick up if he wanted to. Andrew seemed to miss it entirely. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have been so rough on you yesterday." "Whatever," John retorted. "That was some hot sex!" "You think so?" asked Andrew. "Hell yes," John said vehemently. "That's the way sex should be: intense." "As long as it's mixed with a good amount of sensual," Andrew opined. "You know it," John agreed. "Just not all the time, or it would be boring." "Well, we couldn't have that!" "No!" "Want some more of that now? Or are you too sore?" "I don't know if I can handle another round quite yet," John confessed. "Then I think you should do my back now," Andrew answered suggestively. "Now? Even with my grandparents just a room away? Are you sure?" "Kind of makes it hotter, don't you think?" "You have a point," John acceded. "And it would be a shame to waste this," he said, turning to show how Andrew's ministrations had affected him. "Definitely a waste," Andrew agreed as he kissed John hard on the mouth and stroked his long hard cock. He broke the kiss and looked John straight in the eye. "Now get my back," he demanded. "Yes sir," replied John with a smile. Andrew turned around and John slathered him with soap, stroking and caressing his entire body before kneading the tidy little melons before him. He used a finger, then a thumb, then two fingers to massage the cute pink ring open. His other hand jacked up his cock to full stature before pulling his fingers out of Andrew's hole. In one last reaction to last night, he mimicked Andrew's move from the day before and thrust his raging cock deep inside Andrew with one hard push. ********* What happens next? Keep tuned in to find out! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-55

Date: Sat, 25 May 2024 16:54:54 +0000 From: DurtyRiter <DurtyRiter@protonmail.com> Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 55 Please consider donating something to support Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 55 John had no time to ponder that exchange before he was inundated with incoming family. "I'm going to win next time," Taylor declared adamantly as she came around the corner. "Emma just barely beat me." "We'll see," answered Emma from under her well-used paper Burger King crown. "Not if I beat you!" countered Dalton. "I just wanted mine to look cool this time, that's all." They bantered back and forth until Grace had them dish up their food. He soon found that even though Andrew's family was smaller and somewhat more reserved than his, it didn't mean there was any less of a commotion when dinner was being served. How three small children (or two really, since Emma was naturally more reserved) could generate such synergistic chaos was mystifying. He'd always chalked up the intensity of his own family gatherings to sheer numbers, but maybe there was more to it than that. Either way, he quickly felt like part of the family. He found himself joining in the banter and even light teasing as they traded stories around the table. He hadn't dared hope he would fit in so well. The only one present that didn't seem ebullient and engaged was Rick. He seemed as stable as a big rock in the middle of a creek. The interactions flowed around him like water. He would interject and respond as need arose, but bubbly conversation was clearly not his forte. At first, John was content to just leave well enough alone, but he soon realized he was just being lazy. He wasn't used to interacting with anyone like Rick. He took comfort in knowing that it was due to his own quirky personality rather than John not measuring up. At least that's what John decided. He began to pay a little more attention. It was true the conversations went around him rather than through him. What came across as cold and unfeeling was shown to be just a mildly blank expression as he listened to the people around him. When he spoke, everyone stopped to listen to what he had to say. Everything he said carried weight. His contributions were never harsh, cutting, or frivolous. On the contrary, he was adept at nuance, substance, and insight. He was like a guru, and John's respect for him grew over the course of the meal. He still had no idea what Rick thought of him, but he got the impression Rick hadn't yet decided. John found himself having to work very hard not to become self-conscious or start second-guessing himself under Rick's watchful eye. Completely oblivious to John's turmoil, the family happily rolled through lunch. Even Andrew was more free and easy once he had seen his family and John were getting along famously. John loved seeing him in his element. The kids gave everyone a recounting of interesting moments from school, Grace embarrassed them with stories from after they got home, and all the guys told a tale or two from work. Once lunch had been cleared, the kids decided they wanted to play with the adults instead of heading back downstairs, so a board was set up for Settlers of Catan. Taylor demanded John help her win and Dalton joined forces with "Uncle TomTom." A lively game ensued with Gail being declared the winner after all was said and done. "Now cake!" crowed Dalton. "There's no table right now," pointed out Gail with a smile. Taylor and Dalton sprang into action to put the game back in the box as quickly as humanly possible. Or maybe even faster, John chuckled to himself. He would have sworn the box was packed and gone before Gail had made it to the kitchen door to get the cake. A few minutes later, the chandelier lights were dimmed and Gail returned with a cake covered with 24 flickering candles. The excited kids launched into "Happy Birthday" the moment her foot crossed into the doorwayÑ-two keys too high for everyone else, of course. Thomas made his wish and blew out the candles with a big whoosh. All except for one that refused to go out, much to the kids' delight. He cut himself a slice of cake before turning the knife over to Gail. The privilege of the coveted second slice was decided with a coin toss in Dalton's favor, much to Taylor's chagrin. She rewarded him by sticking out her tongue when her parents were looking the other way. "So, John," Gail began once she finished divvying out the rest of the cake. "What kind of traditions do you have for birthdays with your family?" "I don't remember traditions per se," he answered. "Just a lot of commotion mostly. Unfortunately, most of us have moved away, so I don't get to see many of them these days." "That's a shame." "It is," he agreed. "There are so many of us with so many different quirks, that it's more about who's birthday we happen to be celebrating at the time." "That makes sense." "Yeah. Some are gluten-free, some are lactose-intolerant, and others don't even celebrate birthdays. It's gotten hard to keep up with," he admitted. "I can understand that," said Gail. "How many siblings do you have?" Grace asked. "Eight," John answered. "Four brothers and three sisters." "Oh wow," Grace responded. "And where do you fall in that line?" "I'm the youngest boy, but I have two younger sisters." "If you're one of the youngest, do they all have families of their own?" asked a curious Gail. "Almost all of them now," John replied. My sister Ann, who is just younger than me, is still single too. Everyone else is married with at least one kid." "I can see how you can play family sports," chuckled Roger. "Yeah. I wouldn't trade them for anything, but we can be a little much for most people." "What's the age difference between you?" asked Thomas. "I think it's 24 years between the oldest and the youngest." "Oh my!" exclaimed Gail. "Yeah," laughed John. "We jokingly say we are three families in one. The first two were born right after the other and then there is a little bit of a gap before the next three. Then there's a much bigger gap before me and my last two sisters." "Was that on purpose?" Grace asked. "You know, I have no idea," chuckled John. "I've never gotten around to asking." "Funny," commented Roger. "But understandable," Gail added. "It's really no one else's business regardless of how interesting the rest of us find it." "Sorry," Grace apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to get too personal." "No worries," John assured her. "Everyone asks that. It's even worse at family reunions. My dad is from a big family too, so we end up spending half the time just trying to figure out who everyone is and how they fit in," he laughed. "No kidding!" "Yeah, there are thirteen of them, and even though they don't all have big families like ours, there are enough that it's kind of crazy when we meet up at camp." "You keep mentioning a camp," noted Roger. "Is that somewhere near here?" "Yeah, it's called `The Three Jacks,' and it's not too far up the highway." "I know that place," said Gail. "It's nice." "Thanks," said John. "We try." "You can tellÑ-especially at the diner. There was a super nice waitress when I went there last time. She was so good!" "That would be Mabel," John laughed. "She's been amazing forever." He threw a quick `I told you so' wink at Andrew. Andrew smiled. "She's still there. And still talking a million miles an hour." "That's definitely her," Gail confirmed. "So sweet." "So you own the place now?" Roger asked. "Technically, it's owned by a family trust, but I manage it." "And you want to go into real estate on top of that?" asked Gail. "Well yeah," John answered. "We have some good people there, so it pretty much runs itself at this point. I want the challenge of building something of my own now." "Nothing wrong with that," Rick opined. "Thanks. I've actually been talking with Andrew about possibly jumpstarting his goals at the same time," he cautiously announced. "Oh really?" asked Gail. "How would you do that?" "First off, we only just started talking about it, so nothing's decided yet. But a friend of the family has an old nursery that has been sitting idle that is willing to do a rent-to-own arrangement with Andrew if he wants to. It even includes a house, so my thought was to take over his mortgage so he wouldn't have to worry about two payments a month." John caught Andrew's look of alarm and instantly regretted that he didn't check with Andrew before he made his announcement. Oops. He had gotten a little too comfortable with the family and let his guard down enough to speak without thinking first. He didn't mean to put Andrew on the spot like that. "When were you going to tell us about this?" "What?" "Is that a good idea?" "Are you sure about this?" John kicked himself hard mentally. "Seriously, we just barely started talking about it this week," he interjected. "It was just a possibility that occurred to me, so I told him about it. I don't think he's even had time to think about it yet." "I really haven't," Andrew said. "Not at all?" Grace insisted. "Maybe a little, but not enough to make a decision, that's for sure. It sounds intriguing and exciting, but also scary and complicated. That's as far as I've gotten." "Would you have to quit your job to do it?" asked a worried Gail. "Probably," confirmed Andrew. "It'd be too much for one person to do both." "But how would you be able to pay for it? These things don't generate cash right out of the gate, you know." "I know," he assured her. "I'd probably need to get a business loan to pull it off. John has even offered to bankroll the difference if the house isn't enough." Even the taciturn Rick's eyebrows went up at that. "Let me get this straight," Thomas said. "John would give you a business loan to start your flower shop or whatever and it would include a house, so you'd move there and what, sell your house to John?" "Pretty close," Andrew admitted. "As I understand it, he would buy my house and I could take the profits and use that as a nest egg to get the business started." "Do you have that much equity?" asked Roger. "I have a good amount, yes. I don't know if it's quite enough, but it's probably close enough to make it work with John's help. I still need to crunch some numbers." "Okay, it doesn't sound quite as hare-brained when you put it that way," admitted Gail. "Like John said, I'm just mulling it over right now." There was a lull in the conversation for a moment before Thomas looked at John with a twinkle in his eye. "You sure know how to liven up conversation! That's twice in a row where you've added commotion to the table!" "My bad," said John with no small amount of humility as he caught Andrew's eye. "I didn't mean to make a fuss." "We'll get over it," Thomas promised. "A little spice always makes life interesting anyway." "Interesting plan," said Grace. "Whatever you decide, you know we're behind you one hundred percent." "Thanks Grace," said Andrew. "Of course!" Grace then turned to her kids. "Okay, I need you guys to go make sure Grammy won't find a single Lego to step on downstairs." "ButÑ-" started Taylor before a quick look from her mom cut her off. "Yes, mama." The little ones dutifully trudged downstairs with Andrew as the rest of the family cleared the table and started to clean the kitchen. John pitched in like everyone else. Gail turned to John as he loaded the dishwasher. "You don't need to do that," she said. "Am I doing it wrong?" he asked. "Not at all," she said. "But you are our guest." "Thank you, but many hands make light work, as my mother says, and I want to help." "Okay," she said after a short pause. "If you want to." He was determined to follow the family's lead, and more than happy to do at least his share of the cleanup. If nothing else, it was the least he could do after raising a ruckus at the table. In short order, the kitchen was all cleared and kids were back from picking up the Legos downstairs. "Andrew," Rick said. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" "Sure." They meandered off together somewhere as everyone else got ready to leave. "It's been so good to see you guys," Gail enthused as she gave each of the kids a hug and a kiss. "I love you!" "Love you too, Grammy!" they said in chorus as they followed their dad out the door. "Love you, mom," said Grace as they shared a hug. "Love you too, honey," she said. Thomas turned to John. "Since you guys are going tonight, can I just ride with you?" "Sure," he replied. "But we can't stay too late and I don't want to leave you stranded there or cut your evening short." "You won't," Thomas assured him. "I can easily get a ride home from one of the guys. And there's always Uber if I'm wrong." "Okay then, welcome aboard." Andrew and Rick soon returned. John made it a point to go up to Rick and shake his hand. "Thank you for having me over, sir. It was good to meet your wonderful family." "Thank you for coming," Rick replied ambiguously before turning to go back to where he had just come from. Andrew, John, and Thomas each gave Gail a hug and headed out the door. When they got to John's little car, Andrew being Andrew surprised no one when he insisted on folding himself into the back seat so his brother could sit shot gun despite Thomas's protest. "Okay, birthday boy," said John. "Where to?" "It's a place called `Mike's.' Have you heard of it?" "Nope," John answered affably. "Not a clue." "Oh, okay. Just get to Powell Blvd and head towards downtown." "I can do that," John said as he backed into the street. "What's it like?" "Mike's?" "Yeah." "It's just a dive bar close to the station that we like to go to sometimes." "Just what we need: drunk firefighters to keep us all safe," John teased. "Hey, we all need some time off, don't we?" "Indeed we do!" John agreed. "So how are you liking it so far?" "I love it! The guys are super cool and like I said at dinner, it can be exciting sometimes." "But not all the time?" "Most of our calls are for medical help, actually, and those are more gross than exciting." "I suppose they would be." "Don't get me wrong, it's rewarding as hell to save people's lives. I just find it more fun to shoot down flames and stuff." "For what it's worth, I'm glad it's not more exciting for you." "Why not?" "Because excitement means danger, and I'd hate for anything to happen to you." "I'll be fine," Thomas insisted. "I had to go through tons of training just to join the team. If we can't keep ourselves alive, we can't save others, you know." "True." "So Andrew," Thomas said turning toward the back seat a little. "Are you really going to sell your house and quit your job to do the plant thing?" "Of course I want to, but like I said, I need to do some more calculations first to make sure it's possible. That's what Dad wanted to talk to me about." "Really?" John chimed in. "What did he say?" "He just wanted to make sure I double check my numbers and not jump in too quickly." "He doesn't like the idea?" "Oh, he thinks it's probably a good move if it will make me happy as long as the math works. He also recommended I get a business loan through a bank instead of you." "Did he?" "Yeah," said Andrew. "It's not that he doesn't trust you," he added quickly. "It's just that he pointed out that we haven't actually known each other for a heck of a long time. He's seen a lot of his friends lose everything when significant others are involved with businesses and shuffling money around, and he doesn't want that to happen to me." "Then he doesn't trust me," John said, disappointed. "He doesn't know you very well yet," Andrew pointed out. "I'm not worried about you at all. But he did remind me people can get funny when money is involved." "I can't fault his logic," John conceded. "I'm just a little bummed is all." "He'll come around," Thomas promised. "He just comes across a bit strange at first. At least that's what everyone tells me." "He is a little hard to read," John admitted. "And I'm usually pretty good at that." "Okay, we're coming up on Mike's. It's right up there on the left," Thomas said, pointing to a low nondescript building about half a block ahead. John found a spot to park and they made their way to the front door while Thomas traded text messages on his phone. "They're already here," he announced as they approached the bar. On a hunch, John held Andrew back just a little so Thomas would be the first one through the door. They walked in and were immediately confronted with an impressive array of notably attractive men wearing dark blue Fire Department t-shirts. "Happy birthday, Bottom Boy!" ********* What do you think should happen next? Tell me your thoughts! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-62

Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2024 15:41:48 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 62 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 62 "Definitely squatters," John declared. "But it looks like they are gone now. We will change the locks to be sure they don't come back, and we should be good to go. You all right?" Andrew nodded. At least it was something tangible, he sighed to himself. "You're still a little uneasy, aren't you?" "Well yeah," Andrew admitted. "Wouldn't you be?" "I am," John confirmed. "In fact, I'd rather you not come here alone until we change the locks. Whoever it was is probably long gone, but let's play it safe just in case." "Okay," Andrew agreed. He was much more at ease knowing John was with him on this. They waded back through the tall grass to John's car and were soon back on the road and heading toward The Three Jacks. "I have a different kind of weekend in mind this time, if you're game," John said as he drove. "I honestly don't care as long as I get to spend it with you." "You're so sweet," John said with a smile. "You're just salty," Andrew replied. "Oh, ho!" John exclaimed. "Am I?" "Definitely," Andrew asserted. "Like an old sea dog." "Wow," John said in a long, drawn-out way. "And here I thought I won you over with my heart of gold." He breathed an inner sigh of relief that Andrew had rebounded enough to banter back and forth with him again. "You don't think both can be true?" Andrew asked. "You tell me." "Of course they can." "Then salty gold I am," said John. Andrew wasn't looking at John's sudden and very brief pained expression at that moment, so he had no way of knowing how John took that inadvertently piercing comment to heart. "What did you have in mind this weekend?" Andrew asked, this time turning to look at John. "I want to show you something that I think you'll really like. I've been saving it until now." "Oh really?" "Yep." "What is it?" John just grinned and gave him a quick wink. "Oh no!" "Oh yes." Andrew rolled his eyes. At least John's surprises were always good ones. This time, he just decided to rest on his trust in John and didn't even bother to try to figure it out. As it turned out, he quickly found out he would have been floundering in vain when they sailed right past the Jacks sign. They did, however, pull off the highway a bit farther up the road onto the gravel drive that led to the horror movie garage from their first trip out here. John pulled up to the rusty old Quonset hut and turned to Andrew. "Could you do me a favor and slide this card over the panel next to the man door?" "Sure," Andrew said with a shrug. He got out and walked around to the side of the building until he found a conspicuously shiny plain black panel next to the door. He waved the supplied card across the surface and the little red LED at the bottom changed to a green. He heard the garage door start to rise just before he noticed a worn but still very legible sentence spray painted on the door in red in a standard military template: "All trespassers subject to detainment and waive all rights to fair treatment" with a smirking skull and crossbones logo below. One of Andrew's eyebrows quirked up at that. He went back around to the front to find that John had already pulled his car into the garage. All thoughts about the intriguing warning were wiped from thought as he saw inside the "murder hut" clearly for the first time. It was so clean and bright that Andrew winced at first glance. Technically, the only thing different from the first visit was that the old familiar Jeep was nowhere to be seen. John's old hatchback was still buried under a cover below the wacky little wagon on the lift. The boxy van and the big covered coupe were likewise unchanged from weeks ago. Now that he was up close, he saw the floor wasn't just old concrete, but a textured gray epoxy that was shiny enough to reflect every gleam of light from the blinding overhead fixtures. He also saw that in front of the vehicles, the garage stretched on, though darkness obscured what was beyond. "Okay, tourist," John teased. "Come grab your bag." Andrew quickly snagged his stuff from the back seat as John closed the garage door behind them. "This looks fancy," Andrew commented. "Oh, it is," John said. "Grandpa was into cars, and this was his project. Are you a gearhead?" "Not really," Andrew admitted. "Shame," John said. "He has a pretty amazing collection that almost nobody knows exists." "Is that why you have all the fancy security systems?" "Yeah, though it really needs to be updated. I was just talking to him last week and he wants to make it a retinal scan thing now." "Why on earth would he do all that? Is it really that big a deal?" "Oh yeah," John assured him. "If we were in the city, he would have lost them long ago." "So where are these fancy things?" "Right this way," John gestured into the shadows. As they walked close to the darkened end of the garage, motion sensors triggered lights that came on ahead of them, illuminating a wide arched corridor stretching even farther back. Andrew could now make out silver cars on each side of the path. The farther they walked, the more sections lit up. Some were futuristic, some were antiques, and there was a bit of everything in between�even a weird torpedo-looking van. The collection seemed to be very eclectic and the only thing they had in common was silver paint, though he suspected some of them weren't painted at all. "I can tell you're not a car guy," John laughed. "You'd be drooling at all this." Andrew shrugged. "Sorry." Cars were not his thing. "It's all good. We might have lost a weekend if you were," John joked. "But let me fill you in a little bit." Andrew shrugged again. "Sure." "Like I said, my grandpa is really into cars, but his favorites are obscure American brands that never made more than one car. "In fact, have you seen the movie `That Thing You Do!'?" It sounded vaguely familiar to Andrew. "Maybe�" he said slowly. "It's a Tom Hanks movie about a one-hit wonder band with Liv Tyler in it�" prompted John. "Oh yeah! I liked that one!" "Well, Grandpa calls this his `Oneder Collection.'" "Don't you mean `Wonder Collection?'" "Exactly!" John beamed. "Oh my God," groaned Andrew. "He's as bad as you, isn't he?" "I had to get it from somewhere, didn't I?" John laughed. Andrew rolled his eyes for good measure. "Anyway, he started buying a few of them here and there until he had this collection. There are actually more at his place in Palm Springs, but he keeps the rarer ones here." Each vehicle had its own space and lighting to show it off in the best way possible. Not dioramas exactly, but a few relevant accessory elements so it wasn't just a lonely car in a cubicle. They all had identifying plaques with the names in big bold letters at the top and smaller text below. The names meant just about nothing to him: Dymaxion, Hennessey, Tucker, Vector, Dual-Ghia, Falcon, Ruxton, Kurtis, Cizeta, Zeder, Fisker� Of the thirty or so vehicles, Andrew only recognized a DeLorean and the name "Shelby"�-though the car itself didn't look any more familiar to him than the others. John prattled on, giving the highlights of the stories behind some of the cars as they passed them. It was somewhat interesting to hear about the drama behind these creations, but Andrew was more interested in simply listening to his handsome host talking to him and watching him admiringly as they strolled. Past the displays were a few closed rooms. "Am I allowed to ask what's in these rooms?" "Sure," John replied. "One is my granddad's office, one is a library just for his car books, one is a restroom, and the last one is just for storage." After the closed rooms, the wide corridor ended at some art deco-styled doors to what looked like a freight elevator. Andrew looked at John quizzically to find John grinning at him. "An elevator? Really?" "Yep!" John replied. "Well, sort of, actually," he amended. "It's called an Inclinator. Have you ever been to the Luxor in Vegas?" "A long time ago, why?" "Did you ride the elevators there?" "Yeah," Andrew answered. "I remember they were weird." "Exactly. They travel at an angle, and that's what this one does too." "Where does it go?" "At an angle," John replied diffidently, clearly trying not to laugh. Andrew punched him in the gut for his efforts. "Hey!" John protested before he pressed the button. The doors immediately slid open and revealed the lift in all its stylishly sleek glory. Like the outer doors, it had a very jet age feel to it, with stylized shapes composed into a rising motif that suggested skyscrapers, streamlining, and dirigibles. Most elements looked like simple skinny arches cut in half from top to bottom with taller ones interspersed between. About a third of the way up were three thin horizontal stripes in black that went all the way around the cab. Each piece was comprised of a different polished metal, which gave a sense of layers despite the flat panels. It was undeniably impressive. "You going to get in, or just stand there staring at it?" John quipped. Andrew gave him a mock glare and took deliberately slow steps through the door. The joke ended up being at his own expense though, because the doors started to close on him and he had to push them open again. John laughed as he joined Andrew in the lift. "I know," he said. "This does look impressive. But wait until you see what's at the top." John pressed one of the buttons and the doors swept shut again and the cab began its ascent. "The top?" asked Andrew. "I thought we'd be going down." "You did, huh?" John replied with a twinkle in his eye. "Later, I'm sure, but for now, we are going up�ish!" Andrew rolled his eyes, but the odd movement of the inclinator confirmed John's claims. Andrew was still trying to figure out how this was possible. The Quonset hut was in a level clearing and he never saw anything sticking above the trees, so how could they be going up? Then again, he never noticed the long extension off the back that housed Grandpa Finnegan's car collection either. Probably painted in such a way as to camouflage it into the woods, he reasoned. That would fit in apprpriately with all the other crazy buildings in this campground. And it stretched back for quite a way. Now that he thought about it, the Jeep would start to climb almost immediately after it got out of the vale when they drove up to the grotto. That would mean this "inclinator" could indeed be underground as he first guessed even though they were moving upwards. But where would it end up? He finally admitted to himself there was no way to know before they reached the end of the line. "A little bit mind-bending, isn't it?" John asked him with a knowing grin. "As you can probably guess, this was my inspiration for how I did the outhouse." "Yeah, it's kind of crazy. I never noticed how long the garage was or even imagined this thing," he said, gesturing to encompass the lift. "Wait `til you see where we're going," John said beaming. "Who built this part?" "My grandparents again. It was going to be their last hurrah and final home, but then changed their minds and moved to Palm Springs for the warmer weather. They still like to come back here a lot during the summer though." Just then they could feel the elevator slowing to a stop. "Hey!" John called sharply. Andrew turned toward him in alarm. "Sorry; just wanted your full attention for a sec. I think you should close your eyes for this," John recommended. Andrew took a split second to decide while he heard the doors start to open behind him before he did as requested. "Okay," John whispered in his ear as he turned Andrew around and led him forward with one hand on his shoulder and one hand on his elbow. "Right this way, if you will." John led him about ten steps forward before stopping him. "Alright," he said. "Open your eyes." ********* What do you think should happen next? I look forward to hearing from you! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-71

Date: Sat, 14 Dec 2024 18:00:42 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 71 The Man with the Jeep Chapter 71 John teased Andrew's ear with his tongue. "I think," he whispered before another lick. "We" [lick] "should" [lick] "have" [lick] "some" [lick] "really" [lick] "hot" [lick] "sex" [lick] "right" [lick] "here" [lick] "on" [lick] "this" [lick] "desk" [lick] "right" [lick] "fucking" [lick] "now." "What about lunch?" Andrew whispered back breathlessly. "I'd" [lick] "rather" [lick] "eat" [lick] "you." "But we don't really have time, do we?" Andrew protested with fading resistance. "We" [lick] "will" [lick] "make" [lick] "the" [lick] "time." "I don't know, John, I-�" John took one hand and gently closed it over Andrew's mouth. "Ssshhh " he hissed softly into Andrew's ear. "This is more important right now." Ever the conscientious one, it took more of John's ministrations to his neck, throat, and finally his mouth before Andrew let work fade away and truly gave himself in to what was happening and melt into John. The kiss began lightly, but became a vortex, sucking them both in until they were delving deeper and deeper into each other with their tongues. Their hands, initially gently resting on the other's shoulders, now carelessly crumpled the formerly pressed shirts in the clutch of tight grips. When they reached the point that it was impossible for more, John stood, pulling Andrew up with him. His hands let go of Andrew's shirt and attacked his belt and fly until they were both open. Then he grabbed his slender stunner, yanked his pants down, lifted him to lay flat onto the empty desk beside them, and swallowed his raging pole down to the hilt. Andrew gasped at the hot suction enveloping his swollen rod. His man knew exactly how to captivate him. His fervor underscored just how much he desired Andrew, and Andrew was eager to respond in kind. He reached down as far as he could, and still couldn't get a grip of what he wanted, but he did manage to grab John's belt and pull him around to the end of the desk. By the time he had John where he wanted him, he also had the belt and fly open to show John's member pushing out the front of his boxers. In all this, John hadn't stopped giving Andrew's cock some serious attention, so he soon found himself bent over his boy with his straining dick bumping Andrew's shoulder. Andrew shuffled himself up so his head now hung over the desk. John almost gagged a couple times as Andrew's cock would push in even farther as he moved, but he continued to suck on it tenaciously. With just a little movement, Andrew freed John's rod from its confines. He opened wide to take everything John could give him and finally felt his hard satin stick slide inside. Absolute bliss! It was so hot and thick, Andrew felt it stretch his throat all the way down. He did his best to make love to the invader as he felt John literally try to suck the seed from his balls. The hot breath on their needy cocks and the electrified atmosphere conspired to quickly bring them both to sharp climaxes at nearly the exact same time. Volley after volley of rich cum was traded between them, with neither missing a drop. John stepped back and pulled his shiny cock out of Andrew's warm mouth, stopping at the very end so Andrew could lick the tip clean of the very last drop of sweet salty seed. Andrew sighed. "That was so perfect," he said with a satisfied smile. "Was?" John asked, tapping Andrew's hard on and bumping his own boner against Andrew's cheek. "What makes you think we're finished?" With a dirty smirk, he spun Andrew around on the desk and grabbed his ankles to pull them wide. "No, we aren't done yet!" And with that, he crouched down on his knees and dove tongue-first into Andrew's musty hole. Andrew yelped and then started moaning as John attacked his bum with sloppy kisses and wet licks. He used his tongue and sometimes fingers to work Andrew's hole until it was nice and relaxed. "Mmmmm," he moaned from between Andrew's legs. "You have such a perfect butt!" "Then use it!" Andrew replied with feeling. "Yeah?" John said. "You want me to put my big ol' cock in that tiny little hole?" "Yes! Please!" Andrew begged. "I want to feel you stretch me and claim me!" John stood up and looked him in the eye with an echo of the hunger he saw there. "Who am I to refuse my perfect match?" He spit on his hand to slick up his fuck pole and pointed it at the target. "Ready?" "Yes! Drill me!" And he did. Andrew was more than ready, and though it was as tight a fit as ever, John rapidly built up speed after a considerate start. Holding Andrew's ankles wide, he soon had Andrew bucking and writhing on the desk in delirium, grasping at John's muscular glutes to feel the powerful tension and pull him in deeper. Despite just cumming a few minutes earlier, John could feel a second rush coming on almost as strong as the first. The firm grip of Andrew's fingers on his ass and the hot suction around his cock proved too much to withstand. "You're going to make me blow again," John warned. Andrew seemed to double down, tightening his ass muscles even more and gripping John's melons so hard he thought they might start bleeding. It was the perfect response, and John quickly shot a second load deep down inside the depths of his partner with a deep growl. His body jerked with the last few spurts before he slowly withdrew his sword from Andrew's sheath. He shuddered a few more times and held onto the desk for support for a moment as Andrew got off the desk to stand beside him. Andrew kissed him softly for a moment before breaking it off. "You're incredible," John said earnestly. "That was amazing." "Was?" Andrew replied with a glint in his eye. "I haven't heard any fat lady," he said, pushing John down onto the desk in the same position he had just been in and yanked his slacks and shorts off. He grabbed John's ankles and spread them wide just as John had done to him to expose the little pink winker hiding under the dark ginger carpet. He locked eyes with John to make sure he caught the lust in his own expression and then dropped down to delve into John's forbidden zone. Andrew used tongue, lips, nose, fingers, chin, and even eyelashes to tease, caress, stroke, and stimulate every nerve ending to be found. He was so dedicated and inventive in his approach, it made John wonder what he had missed by being only a top for so long. Clearly something. But it didn't matter at all anymore. Nothing mattered but the amazing sensations his sexy boyfriend was inflicting him with. He wasn't going to be an exclusive bottom anytime soon, but Andrew soon had him gasping for invasion. "Please, Andrew," he begged. "I want you in me." "Do you?" Andrew replied mockingly. "I don't know if I believe you." "I do!" John insisted. "I want to feel your hard cock plunging into me." "Well, if that's what you really want," he said coyly. "I suppose I can do that." He stood up while keeping grip of John's ankles. He moved closer so his cockhead nudged John's entrance tantalizingly. His dick made no secret of its intention. He had been drooling pre-cum since the moment he began working John's valley. While Andrew made a show of things, his leak only grew until it was literally a thin steam dripping from the end of his manhood all the way down to the floor, where it gathered into a growing puddle. "Please dick me," John said again. Andrew pushed his cockhead just inside John's ring and stopped. "More," John whimpered, somehow managing to sound both commanding and pleading. "I don't know," Andrew said, smirking. "Maybe this is all you get." At lightning speed, John reached down and grabbed Andrew by his beautiful butt melons and drove himself all the way down Andrew's cock with a single plunge. Still not used to it, it took his breath away, but he succeeded in getting what he wanted. Andrew dropped the teasing pretenses then, and proceeded to long-dick John thoroughly, driving him crazy beneath him. He knew what he liked and watched John for indications of his performance. He didn't have to though. John was a very vocal participant and let him know exactly how he felt about every move. And he felt good. Seeing John wrapped up in the throes of ecstasy that he himself had made for him set a fire in his balls that was about to erupt. "Fuck me, Andrew!" he cried. "Nail me good!" Andrew started to really slam into him now. Over and over, he ground against John's prostate as he pumped deep inside him. "Yes!" John cried out hungrily. "You really want this, don't you?" Andrew demanded. "Yeah! Flood me, baby!" "Okay then," Andrew growled. "Take it!" And with that, he felt his cock expand and explode with volcanic force, spewing its white lava into the depths of the man before him. Pulse after pulse released more and more cum, which Andrew was only too happy to push deeper inside until the waves died down to faint twitches. He released John's ankles then, and John wrapped them around his waist to hold him in place. He did a crunch to get up far enough to grab Andrew and pull him down on top of himself so they could share a deep kiss to seal the experience. Between them, they could each feel both hearts still beating strongly inside their sweaty chests. They were in perfect counterpoint to each other, with one beating exactly between the beats of the other while they literally shared air to fill their lungs. It was magical. Neither wanted it to end, but as the intensity died down, real life forced its way back in. Andrew, of course, had to fight down the panic then. And now his stomach was growling because he hadn't eaten. What time was it? How late was he in getting back to work? Should he take more time to eat, or try to eat on the go at his desk despite that being frowned upon and completely unprofessional? To add insult to injury, his shirt was rumpled and sweaty�-as was John's�-since they had never taken them off. How was he going to explain this when he went back? John could see he was distressed, and helped him calm down as they put their pants and shoes back on. "Do you have anything that needs to be done by a specific time?" he asked. "Just before I go home," Andrew answered. "That's at 5." "Is there any reason you can't stay a few minutes late and leave at " (he glanced at his watch) " say 5:30?" "I guess not, I'm just usually pretty punctual about that." "It won't kill you to run behind a little bit, but you know how you can get if you don't eat. I'd wolf down some food first, then go back to work if I were you." "But what about my shirt?" Andrew asked nervously. "Everyone's going to know something happened." "You already know what I'm going to say first, don't you? So what? Secondly, are you going to try to tell me you don't have a backup shirt ready to go just in case?" Andrew blushed. "Oh yeah." "So, no big deal, right?" "Well, it's under my desk " Andrew answered uncertainly. "So just be quick about it. Simple." "I suppose so," Andrew admitted. "On the bright side," John added. "At least you don't have this to contend with before a meeting in five minutes," gesturing to the front of his slacks where his boxers did very little to hide the fact that John was still thinking about what he'd just done with Andrew. Andrew smiled. "There we go," John announced. "I hate to run, but my spare shirt is in my car." "Then you'd better hurry," Andrew said, waving him off. "I love you!" he called as John turned and started running down the hall. "Love you too!" came the fading reply. Andrew always hated eating in his car, but he ate his sandwich as he drove back to work anyway. At least he had chosen to bring a sandwich for lunch and not soup. Besides the receptionist giving him a quizzical look, no one seemed to notice his rumpled return before he traded shirts. It ended up taking longer to re-focus on his job than it did to change his appearance, but he managed it and finished what he needed to by the end of the day. John was back to his chatty self when he called after work, relating that it wasn't until his meeting was half over that he noticed a splotch in the crotch of his pants that had seeped through because he had slipped through the opening of his boxers without noticing. "What did you do?" asked an agog Andrew. He could practically see John shrug as he answered, "Nothing. I just pretended everything was fine. I'm sure they noticed, but no one said anything. At least not to me. Maybe they said something to each other, but I don't know, and I don't care. I had to go back out to my car again for my spare slacks, and it turned out they were not even mine and two sizes too big. It was a great day to skip wearing a belt, let me tell you. I had to choose between an incriminating stain and sloppy drawers." "Which one did you go with?" "The sloppy drawers," John replied promptly. "And then stayed at my desk as much as possible," he said, laughing. Andrew laughed too. "And how was your dreaded return?" "It went all right. You were right: nobody cared. And I ate while I drove, so I didn't have to stay too late." "Good for you! Maybe we should do it again tomorrow," John said suggestively. "As hot as that was, no thank you," replied Andrew. "I don't want to leave this job on that kind of note." "There is that," John acknowledged. "Speaking of, are you still keen to let me buy your house and get started on your nursery?" "Yeah, I already decided that a while ago." "When do you want to do it?" "I guess there's no reason to wait, is there? It won't make it any easier." "Not really," John agreed. "I figure the sooner I get the money, the sooner I can get things moving." "Very true. How about we get all the paperwork done tomorrow? Between the two of us, we kinda know how things should go." "There is that," Andrew laughed. "Maybe I can see about getting the old house ready to live in by the time the funds go through." "Excellent plan! I guess we will be busy little beavers for a few weeks, because I'll be there with you every step of the way." "Thank you," Andrew said earnestly. "Also, I know a guy " John said facetiously. "Do you? Only one?" "Okay, maybe several," he admitted. "And most of them would probably be willing to help a bit too." "That would be great!" "And Andrew?" "Yeah?" "I really am sorry I hurt you with Brady." Andrew paused a second before replying. "Well, we're officially open, right? So I guess there's nothing to apologize for." "But I shouldn't have done it that way," John insisted. "I promise to be better from here on out." "Thank you," Andrew said finally. "But let's not talk about last week anymore, okay? I'd rather move on now." "Done!" They drafted up all the paperwork for the sale of the house the next day, and signed it the day after once everything had been verified. Now they just had to wait for escrow and all that to finalize before it was a done deal. In the meantime, Andrew signed the lease with Mr. Bradshaw, and he and John went back out to the house with a bunch of new door locks. They set about swapping them all and were relieved to find no more indication of squatters inside. They went back out on Friday and borrowed a heavy-duty mower from The Jacks to clear the driveway, towing it over with the Jeep. They originally intended to recreate the front lawn that John remembered from his childhood as well, but Andrew ended up changing his mind about that. He figured it would be an endless battle to keep the forest from encroaching on it, and he would have plenty to keep him busy at the nursery for a while. The last thing he needed was a lawn to keep mowed. Instead, they pruned and trimmed all the shrubbery and plants around the house that had gone wild. By the time they were finished, it looked completely different. Sure, the flora looked a little sad because it had been so long since they had been cared for, but they were no longer so overgrown as to conceal the house. Andrew noted that the plants were all healthy, carefully chosen native species that would need little maintenance and could pretty much take care of themselves, for which he was grateful. While barely going inside at all that day, they felt very accomplished with what they got done. As night began to creep in, they pulled their sleeping bags and clothes out of the Jeep and brought them upstairs before making a simple dinner of spaghetti. About halfway through, it dawned on Andrew that they had never even addressed the utilities yet. How was he getting power? And water? After a call to Mr. Bradshaw, John found that the house was on its own well, which was terrific news that explained the water. As for the electricity, he had no idea. It had been a long day and the boys decided they could wait to figure that out in the morning, so they headed upstairs, where they zipped their sleeping bags together to lay out on the bed and climbed in. They weren't planning to sleep yet, but no sooner had they cuddled together and started to kiss, than they were both out cold in each other's arms. The other presence in the room was very disappointed. ********* Thanks for reading my tale! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Also, it would be awesome if you could throw a few bucks at Nifty to help them keep this site up for our fun stories! Thanks again for reading, and I hope you have great day! -DurtyRiter DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-44

Date: Sat, 12 Aug 2023 21:01:16 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 44 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 43 With an extra tug to pull them taught, John took the ropes in his hands and tied them to a hook on the cliff face. Andrew was effectively suspended in mid-air face up with his feet spread far apart and his back arched downward toward the ground. John walked up and dragged is fingertips gently up Andrew's legs until he drew them together at his belly button. "Well, looky what we have here," he said mischievously. "Somebody's all trussed up with nowhere to go..." Andrew's cock surged. He flailed his arms a bit to try to get some momentum going and then with an agonizing ab crunch, he was able to bend up enough to grab the rope he was hanging by and hauled himself up into something of a seated position. John leaned down to give him a kiss, and Andrew, still panting from the exertion of sitting up, pulled himself up further only to have John pull back at the last instant, close enough for Andrew to feel his breath but not to actually touch lips. "What shall I do with you?" John said, his fingers lightly running down Adam's chest. "I suddenly have some ideas," Andrew suggested brightly. "Do you? Well, we will have to see if they are the same, won't we?" Again, John leaned in as if to give him a kiss, but Andrew had picked up on the teasing mood he was in and reached out to grab John's head so he couldn't fake him out a second time. But John was ready for that and pushed Andrew back before he could make his grab. Andrew again floundered backwards, eventually making it back up to a sitting position with difficulty. He was breathing hard now. His brain said he should be mad, but instead he was turned on even more. "Maybe they aren't the same ideas after all," John mused. "But no matter..." He tickled Andrew high on both the sides of his ribcage that he remembered made Adam squirm at one point earlier. Andrew involuntarily flinched with both arms and lost his grip, finding himself arched back and downward for a third time. "You know," John said mildly as he came around from between Andrew's legs. "While you are down there, maybe you could do me a favor." He walked over to where Andrew was mustering his strength to get back up again and stopped when he was standing over Andrew's face. Andrew reached above his head to grab onto John's solid furry legs and without being told, opened his mouth wide to receive John's hard cock. "Thatta boy," grunted John as he slid his pole down Andrew's throat. "I knew you would know what to do." Andrew had pincer grip on John's butt cheeks now to help him stay level with his lover's rod as it slid in and out of his warm hot mouth. He was getting a little light-headed, so he worked hard to get John to shoot. He was tired of passing out like a pansy while they played, and he was going to make sure that John came well before that happened. But he did his job almost too well. John's breathing started to pick up until he broke free from Andrew's death grip on his butt. "Nice try, Mister Andrew, but I have something else in mind for you first." Andrew groaned in frustration as he struggled to sit up again. So much for Plan A. Or was it Plan B? Who was he kidding; there was no plan. Besides John's... He barely made it upright again before John was back between his legs. "Mmmm," he said hungrily. "If only you could see how hot you look right now! In fact..." John trailed off as he went to his heap of clothes and fished out his phone. Andrew sat there panting and trying to catch his breath as John took several pictures from numerous spots. "Oh yeah," John said to himself. "These will do nicely indeed!" Andrew heard him but was fighting off dizziness. John put his phone down and looked at Andrew again, inspecting him like he was artwork. "That hole!" he finally announced. "That's what needs my attention!" Andrew's cock was visibly pulsing and cried for release, but Andrew didn't dare reach for it to stroke himself off. He wasn't sure he could get up a fourth time if John pushed him back again, so he just clung to the rope with a death grip. John, meanwhile, had dropped to his knees. Andrew could feel John's fingers pry his crack open even further and then John's tongue slipped itself inside him. "Mmmm!" groaned Andrew. "Yeah!" John growled as he continued to work Andrew's ass with his slippery taster, working him open and getting him wet simultaneously. Andrew was on cloud nine and loved the feel of John working his opening ever looser. His ignored cock was still hard and now leaking a steady stream of pre-cum that dribbled down his side. John picked up the intensity now. Like a dog slobbering all over a favorite bone, he was licking and spitting on Andrew's love opening until it was dripping with saliva and Andrew was a whimpering mess. "Please, John," Andrew begged. "Put it in me." "You know what? I think I will!" John stood up and gripped Andrew's hips to hold him in place, then he slid his big thick dick along Andrew's wet crack. It rubbed against Andrew's button getting coated with juices. When it was all nice and slick, John placed the turgid head against Andrew's pink pucker and slid it in with one long smooth stroke. "Oh," moaned Andrew as he felt himself getting stuffed. "Yeah�" responded John. "You feel so good." "Oh," repeated Andrew. John slid his cock slowly in and out of Andrew's hot hole, but Andrew wanted more. He started to hunch his hips as best he could in his buttressed position to speed up the rhythm, but John was having none of it. "I'm sorry, but you're not in charge this time," John smirked as he took a firmer hold of Andrew's hips to keep him perfectly still. Andrew gave in and just focused on keeping upright as this handsome man long-dicked him. It wasn't very long before John was moving at a faster pace of his own accord. How could he not? This boy was sexy as hell and his ass had the perfect velvet grip to milk him dry. And so it did. Before he knew it, John was shoving his cock in as far as it would go, and he started to shoot his load deep inside the young man before him. Andrew could feel the final surge of girth just as John start to erupt with shot after shot of cum deep inside his ass. "Yes!" Andrew cried. "Give me that load!" With one final hard push to get as deep as he could into Andrew, John finished spurting. He held himself buried in Andrew as he reached down and finally took hold of Andrew's leaking red rocket. He knew it wouldn't take much, and after three strokes, he heard Andrew's breath catch. He yanked out his cock in a flash�which made Andrew gasp�and dove to clamp his mouth around Andrew's cock just as it started shooting. The first volley was so strong that John felt he had been poked in the back of the throat, but he recovered and continued to swallow each burst as it came. The swallowing motion drew even more cum out of Andrew until he was dry cumming. He knew there was nothing left, but his body kept trying to give more. John didn't let up either. He continued to nurse the cock in his mouth, willing it to keep going as he sucked out every drop. Finally realizing Andrew was truly and utterly finished, John stood up straight. He took a quick glance at his spent lover and grabbed his phone for a couple more shots. Andrew didn't care by now. He could hardly move. Sensing this, John quickly went over to untie the ropes. As he returned to Andrew, he very carefully fed the ropes more and more slack until Andrew could put his feet on the ground again. By this time, he was next to Andrew and could hold him up. He released the rest of the rope and held Andrew as he unbuckled the harness from the last rope. He let Andrew fall against him as it released, and he guided him to a soft spot on the ground. "Are you okay?" he asked, looking Andrew in the eye. "I think so," Andrew replied. "I can just barely move though. That was some workout!" "Yes, it was!" he agreed. "But was it too much?" "I'll let you know in a little bit," Andrew chuckled. "That was so hot I wouldn't have traded it for anything, but I feel like a cripple now." John got a very concerned and ashamed look on his face. "No, don't jump to conclusions. Just let me recuperate for a minute. Wanna go grab that rope from up top? I think the rappelling is over for the day," he laughed. "Are you sure?" John asked. "Yes, I'm sure! Read my lips: no more rappelling," he said outlandishly. "Now go get the rope. I'll be fine." "Okay." Once the still-naked John had started up the path, Andrew tried to assess himself. His abs were on fire, his hands hurt from gripping the rope so hard, his legs felt like wet noodles, and though his back didn't actually hurt at the moment, he knew it was going to be sore soon. Wonderful. At least he had about caught his breath. But it was totally worth it. He would never have thought to try that, and John taking charge was always fun. He had a knack for taking things that normally would scare Andrew and making them exhilarating and fun. He really loved that about him. Andrew carefully got to his feet and made it to the cliff face to lean on before John came traipsing back. "How are you now?" "Good, just still a little shaky is all. I'll be fine." "Would you tell me if you weren't?" "Probably," Andrew answered, wondering if it was the truth. "Okay, I'll trust you then." John grabbed Andrew's neatly folded stack of clothes and handed them to him. "Here you go." "Thanks." "My pleasure!" he responded, reached for his heap of stuff. "What shall we do now that I've ruined that plan?" "Ruined? You mean that wasn't your plan all along?" "You mean did I bait you with rappelling and switch it to hot suspended sex on purpose? No, but when I saw that hot ass and hot cock of yours in that harness, I about lost it. I couldn't keep my focus, which isn't safe, so I had to bring you back down. That was when I got the idea." "I'm glad you did. It was hot." "I'm glad you thought so too!" John said. `Very glad,' he thought to himself. `What was I thinking to tax him like that? He's no gymnast. What if I'd hurt him? How do I know I didn't?' "You don't have a spa at this fancy campground of yours, do you?" "No, not really," laughed John. "What were you thinking?" "A massage and a hot tub." "Those we can do." "Really?" "Sure! Let's grab our stuff and we can go do that now." "Don't have to tell me twice!" They picked up everything and double-checked the area before heading up to the Jeep. They hopped in and headed up the trail. "Where are we going?" "Wait and�never mind. We are going up to the grotto. It's actually a hot tub." "Really?" "Yep! We don't heat it that often, but it should still work." "This place still has some surprises." "Oh yeah. You haven't even seen some of the bigger ones yet." "I can't wait!" John laughed. Andrew loved that laugh. He had a fake laugh that he sometimes used to be funny, but his real laugh was deep and rich and honest. It made Andrew happy every time he heard it. "How long do I have to?" "Wait?" "Yeah." "Probably not long, actually. I promise to show you something next weekend, assuming we make it up here." "I'm game!" "Seriously?" "Well yeah, why wouldn't I?" "I don't know. I'm just worried that I'm taking too much of your time and ripping you away from your normal life." "My life is really boring. I don't do much on weekends anyway. Maybe I want to be `ripped away.' "Don't you have friends who wonder where you've been lately?" "Not really. Not yet. I'm not super social, remember? As much as I like them, I don't hang out with friends all the time. Every month or so and I'm good." "I tend to do that more often." "I figured. The real question then is what do YOUR friends think of your disappearances?" "Honestly, I do know tons of people, but you've already met some of my closest friends: Brady, Althea, Duncan, Coop. There are a few more, but I haven't met a single one of your friends yet." "Now that you mention it, that does sound a little odd." "It's not like there's a rush or a competition, it would just be nice to meet them sometime." "We will if you want." "I do." "Okay then," laughed Andrew. They pulled up to the grotto and got out of the Jeep. "So is there a magical app for this too that you've had it warming up for us since I first brought it up?" "No such luck, but it heats up quickly enough." John walked around one side of the alcove and disappeared from view. After a few loud clicking noises, the water started he popped back out. "Okay, it should be ready soon. Ready for your massage?" "What, here?" "Why not? Granted, it's not a quiet little zen studio with harp music, but it's peaceful enough." "But there's no table." "No princess," he said with a wink. "There is no table, but we do have this nice slab of rock that we found to be quite useful when we were here last time." Another wink. "I also have some blankets�" "In the Jeep," Andrew said in unison with John. "I don't know how I doubted you." "I'm not perfect, but I do try," John said with a smile as he opened another one of the myriad boxes in the back of the Jeep. He pulled out a couple thick rustic-looking blankets and laid them out folded four-ply thick on the slab. "Your massage table awaits kind sir," John said with a sweep of his arm. "I will step out of the room now, if you would like to dress yourself down to whatever makes you most comfortable. I will be back in five minutes. You will hear three taps on the door, and you can let me know if you're ready." "Oh, shut up, you dork." "Just trying to be professional," John grinned. Andrew took his clothes off (was this the third time today? He was losing track) and laid out on the padded rock. It was much more comfortable than he expected it to be. Somehow the natural form of the rock fit him just right. Just before John opened the bottle of whatever-it-was, Andrew stopped him. "Hey, if I have to be all naked out here, so do you." "Fair enough," John replied and peeled off all his clothes and tossed them next to Andrew's stack. "There," he said when he was stark nude. "Happy?" "Yes, thank you," answered Andrew with a smile. John popped his bottle open and poured out some oil into his palm, which he rubbed vigorously between his hands. "I hope this isn't too cold." "Just do it already." "Got it." John started with Andrew's neck and gave him a deep tissue massage. A really good one. "Jesus," exclaimed Andrew. "You're a masseuse too?" "Not really," John admitted. "But I know how I like a massage, so I figured I'd just give you what I like. Let me know if you need me to change it up." "Okay, but so far it's stellar." "Stellar�" John repeated under his breath as he got back to work. He worked Andrew's arms, legs, butt, back, chest, and abs before giving him a head massage. Andrew was in heaven. This was much needed after that escapade with the rope. He felt all the tension fall away as John kneaded out knot after knot. "Boy are you tense," John observed at one point. "Yeah, I know, but I'm working on it." "Atta boy!" Finally, John was finished. "Okay, champ. Ready to hop in the hot tub?" "Very!" "Then let's do it!" They walked over to the cave under the waterfall and slid into the hot water. "Oh, that's nice," Andrew said. "Just perfect." "I'm glad you like it," John replied. "And just think, no one's around and we have it all to ourselves!" But he was wrong. Two pairs of eyes had been watching them since the moment they pulled up. ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :) Also, I have had trouble posting consistently lately, so if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-68

Date: Fri, 22 Nov 2024 21:17:55 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 68 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 68 John took in the view and appreciated Brady anew. Even without his classic western clothing, Brady managed to convey old time sensibilities. His hair was parted severely on one side and then combed straight back with some kind of oil that made it shine. It wasn't enough to erase the curls completely, but they were reduced to strict waves over his head. He was clean shaven except for longer sideburns and a glorious mustache that curled up on the ends into points. His pale skin betrayed his habit of wearing long-sleeved collared shirts and trousers almost exclusively. In fact, only his hands and face had any color at all, leaving the rest of his skin an almost ceramic-looking alabaster. The contrast was all the more stark due to the darkness of the room and the black leather stand behind him. A sparse patch of dark hair between his small undefined pecs narrowed to lead down in a relatively thin trail to an unruly profusion of pubes. It looked as if they had never been trimmed, though John knew better, as he had made Brady shave hairless several times in the past. Brady clearly had no interest in working out or building muscle, but he was active enough that there wasn't much flab either. He was trim without looking like he had to work at it, which was exactly the case. John walked right up to where the blindfolded Brady was kneeling and with one hand, pulled his face directly into his crotch. Out of habit, Brady automatically opened his mouth with the action, and once he realized John was still fully clothed, he started gnawing on the growing tool behind the heavy denim. John groaned a deep growl of satisfaction with the primal attack on his manhood. Once he was fully hard, his trousers became too constricting and uncomfortable to continue, so he put both of his hands on Brady's ears and pushed him back a bit. "Open me up!" John demanded. Still without a word, Brady's hands flew to John's heavy belt buckle, undid the clasp, and with the deft action of experience, yanked the belt out of every loop with a loud snap before it went sailing off into the darkness behind him. He opened the row of buttons in John's fly quickly and methodically one by one until they were all free, again without any of the fumbling of those who aren't used to doing exactly this. He fished his hands inside the jeans and around John's ass before carefully peeling them downward until the waistband met the top of John's boots. John smirked as he saw Brady breathe in the heady smell of his crotch and lick his lips in appreciation and anticipation of what was to come. "Breathe it in!" he barked at Brady. Brady's sharp nose instantly bunched up John's boxers in the valley between his balls and his leg as he inhaled so deeply that John could feel a breeze between his legs. It was clear that manly smells were Brady's kryptonite as he continued to nuzzle below John's balls and draw in as much as he could. All the activity underneath had John's cock straining at full mast inside his shorts, and it was a relief when it finally found its way out through the fly while Brady continued his delving. It didn't take long before John had a steady stream of pre-cum drooling down onto Brady's neck and shoulders, the lone light bulb making it shine as bright as liquid silver. "Drop my shorts!" Brady instantly did as ordered and gave a single slow lick across John's dickhead before returning to his mission of drinking in John's smells. Now that his boxers were down, John could feel Brady's mustache brushing and tickling against his skin as he worked. He must use the same oil on his whiskers as he did on his head, because his 'burns and 'stache felt smooth and soft rather than sandpaper rough as he was otherwise used to. He could feel Brady had unthinkingly grasped the back of John's thighs to pull his face in closer, but John didn't rebuke him this time. It was gratifying to have someone who clearly appreciated him. John was leaking even more now as his swollen red rod throbbed with excitement. Despite the veritable river of pre-cum running down his back by this time, Brady had not even slowed his onslaught, but John was ready for a change of pace. Again, he cupped Brady's head in his hands and drew him back. This time, though, John held him right at the end of his raging hard on and teased his lips with the tip of his drooling head. At first, Brady opened wide, but when that hefty meat wasn't instantly shoved down his throat, he realized what his Master wanted. His mouth closed considerably as his tongue stretched out and began to lick John's head clean from all the man syrup it was producing. It quickly became clear that it was generating way more than usual, and in no time, Brady was lapping it up like a dog with peanut butter. His efforts did not go unnoticed. John was washed away with the sensations of Brady's wide and furious tongue action. He glanced down to see that his cock was like purple iron. It was time. John suddenly reached down and grabbed Brady by the straps of his bulldog harness and yanked him to his feet. Brady's lips were glistening with John's pre-cum and wore the clear expression of jubilant expectancy. John roughly turned him around and pushed his shoulders forward and down. Brady quickly caught himself on the stand behind him with his arms and braced himself for what he knew was coming. John used his thumbs to pry apart Brady's surprisingly hairy ass cheeks and verified that he had dutifully already lubed himself up. Good boy. Not being able to help himself, John slid his big thick shlong up and down Brady's crack, teasing him with its heft, its heat, and its hardness. He could see Brady's behind quivering with anticipation of what was next as his pre-cum was blended into the lube at Brady's back door. After one final swipe, John pointed his pecker at the winking rosebud before him, swatted Brady's ass stingingly hard, and then thrust all the way in with one merciless yet smooth stroke. Brady's loud cry was echoed throughout the empty chamber before it turned to a whimper. By the third stroke, the whimper was replaced with groans. Yeah, John thought, Brady needed this as much as he did. But he wasn't in the mood for groans. He ratcheted up his intensity by three steps instantly and nearly shoved Brady off his feet from behind. John drilled him with such ferocity that he kept getting moved forward until it wasn't his hands or arms resting on the stand in front of him, but his waist. If it wasn't for the thing being literally bolted to the ground, it would have been pushed off the stage as well. John was an animal tonight. Brady had graduated to grunts and gasps from this next-level pounding. A lesser man wouldn't have been able to handle it, but John had trained him for this from a very long time ago when they were both much younger. They had a special bond, and it showed. John could feel Brady starting to work his ass muscles, milking the big invader inside him despite the power and speed with which it was being wielded. Good boy. He knew what needed to be done. John knew his stroker was doing a number on Brady's prostate too, because it always did. Brady loved it and could never hold out as long as John did. Sure enough, Brady suddenly tightened up, froze in place, and John could feel him cumming through his ass. He didn't even slow down. He continued to pummel Brady with an intensity that even surprised himself. It wasn't too long after that before John felt the rise coming. "Take it, boy!" he roared. And then it hit like a freight train. He could feel himself shooting harder than he had in a long time. It was a good thing he had Brady's clenching ass to receive it, because he was sure someone would lose an eye otherwise. He kept pumping and pumping jolt after jolt into Brady as deep as he could, knowing that even Brady's talented bottom probably couldn't take it all. He was right, and splooge leaked out around the edges during the final few spurts. He didn't care though. Not a bit. When he finally decided to stop sawing into Brady, he slowly pulled out. Brady's raw hole was duly stretched and took a minute to contract again, so more of John's load leaked out onto his half-softened cock before it finally drew closed. John grabbed the back of Brady's harness and pulled him back upright before surprisingly gently pushing him back down onto his knees. Brady's mouth automatically opened again when John pulled him toward his cum-coated cock. This time, it went right in as expected, and Brady began to lick and suck it clean. Once Brady was properly occupied again, John reached down and removed his blindfold. Brady kept his eyes closed at first, but gradually re-acclimated himself to the light and gazed up at his cousin as he cleaned his tool. When he was finished, he pulled back and inspected John's pecker thoroughly to make sure it was spotless. He had done a good job on his dick, but found the overflowing load had gotten on his balls too, so he obligingly licked those clean as well. When he finally decided he had done a good job, he sat back on his haunches and looked up at John for further instructions. "Roll me up again so I can walk," John told him. Brady dutifully pulled John's boxers back up around his waist (giving his cock head another kiss before hiding it away), and then unrolled John's jeans back up and re-buttoned the fly closed. Satisfied, John fished into his pocket to find his phone, where he swiped and tapped a bit until the main lights of the cavernous old barn began to fade on as old-school incandescent industrial lights do. With cum trails still trickling down the inside of his legs, Brady immediately moved to the other side of the bolted bench to find John's belt. Once he found it, he came back and started to kneel in front of John before John stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "It's shower time now." John walked off the stage and headed toward the dressing room. Brady followed him, carefully grabbing his neat stack of clothes from the stage. He also snagged a few towels from the linen closet right inside the door of the changing room along the way. John sat on one of the benches and after quickly spreading one of the towels out, Brady sat right down on it at John's feet and began to work on getting his boots off. With that accomplished, John stood up again and Brady proceeded to undress him once again, but this time completely. Brady led his liege to the shower room and walked directly to the shower head in the middle and turned on the spray. When he was satisfied with the temperature, he stepped back with a sweeping gesture to invite John to step in. John moved under the water to get himself completely wet before stepping out of the spray. Brady was ready with the soap and a nice lather already worked up, and proceeded to rub and scrub John clean from forehead to toes. John moved back under the spray, where Brady followed him to rub and rinse off the shampoo and soap. When he was finished, he moved to turn off the water before John stopped him. "Thank you, Brady," said John. "I release you." "Thank you, Sir," Brady replied promptly, completing the context. Brady turned on the shower next to John's before turning back to him. "What's going on?" he asked. "You haven't pounded me like that in forever." "I know. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not." "I know," it was Brady's turn to say. "But it's all good. I've missed that," he said, nodding to John's middle. John chuckled. "Thanks." "So what has you so upset?" John warred with himself while Brady washed his hair next to him, fighting between his pride and his more recent learning that talking can help work things out when you can't figure them out in your head. He finally decided he needed to come clean with someone and Brady was reliable and tight-lipped (hah!) without charging several hundred dollars an hour like his therapist did. "It's about Andrew," he began. "I feel like he's cheating on me." Brady stopped cold for a moment with the water streaming down his face and body and just stared at him agape for a moment. "And your solution is to cheat on him? With me?" he asked incredulously. "And since when did you do closed relationships?" "I know, I know: I'm a terrible person," John answered dismally. "The worst part is we aren't even in a closed relationship. In fact, I've been trying to push him to be open to playing with others this whole time." "Okay," Brady said slowly. "Now you've really lost me." "I know. It's just so stupid," John admitted. "You know how we grew up..." "Yeah." "Well, he didn't grow up that way. Not even close. When we started dating, he would feel guilty for noticing another guy at all and beat himself up about it. I've had to work hard to get him to the point where it's okay to appreciate and even acknowledge when other people are hot. That doesn't mean he has to sleep with them, and it doesn't mean he's cheating on me to have a fleeting thought. I've told him I don't care if he even does, because that's what I'm used to--as long as he comes back to me." "But now you do?" "Yeah, I guess I do," John replied. "But I shouldn't. Not at all. And I never have before either. What's my problem?" "Okay, why don't you back up a second. How is he cheating if you're in an open relationship?" "Well, he's played with two people that I know of, and he's never mentioned a thing to me about them." "Are those the rules?" "Of course!" "Does he know that?" "Of course he�-oh, wait. Now that you mention it, I guess we've never actually said it out loud. But he has to know! That's like Open Relationship 101!" "I thought you said he wasn't used to open relationships," Brady pointed out. "He's not used to any relationships, really. I think he's only had like three boyfriends before, and they were all short-term idiots." "But were any of them open?" Brady asked insistently. "Now that you mention it, I'm fairly certain they weren't," John admitted. "Then why are you holding him to the fire for doing something you've been trying to get him to do?" "I know," groaned John miserably. "You really can't blame him for playing around if you've been egging him on to do just that," Brady said assertively. "Now, if you're upset about him keeping secrets from you, maybe you should go over the ground rules so you'll at least know you're on the same page." It was like the clouds parted and the sun broke through. "You're absolutely right," John said, feeling a hundred pounds lighter. "Thank you, Brady." "My pleasure, cousin," Brady replied. "After that fucking you just gave me, you deserve anything I can offer." "I don't know about that," John chuckled. "But it was fun to play again." "Yeah, it was. So don't leave me hanging so long next time!" "Deal! But our talk has me curious. How do you and your wife navigate this stuff? I've never asked." "No, you haven't," Brady laughed. "It's not super proper even in our family, is it?" he asked with a mischievous smirk. "No, Gram, I guess it isn't," John replied sardonically. "I'm just teasing you," Brady answered. "As for us, I've told her how I grew up. She's not comfortable with it and I don't pressure her to try, but I think she'd rather imagine it's all in the past and not know the details. I think she has suspicions about you and me, but is afraid to ask." "Why would she suspect me?" "Because most of the time you call, I drop everything to see you." "I'm so sorry. I had no idea." "Don't worry about it. Like I said, she never brings it up. If she does, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, SIR!" Brady said with a wink, so John couldn't blame him for it. "Though you know I'll cut you off in her favor if she needs me to. Besides, I already gave up playing with other women the day I got married and you are the only guy I play with." "Really?" "Yes, really," Brady assured him. "This may come as a bit of a shock to you, but I am fairly traditional in most ways." "What? You?" said John with mock surprise. "Exactly." John thought about his conversation with Brady all the way back home, and was reminded of how grateful he was to have him in his family. He was more grounded than most of them, and usually had a way of reducing complex situations down to very simple terms that were easier to handle. John was actually looking forward to having lunch with Andrew tomorrow and getting everything hashed out so they could move on. As soon as he got back to his loft, he texted Andrew to confirm lunch tomorrow. It wasn't until Andrew didn't respond after a while that he realized it was past one o'clock in the morning and Andrew probably wouldn't see it until he got up for work. Sigh. Then he realized that he was just as tired as he was excited and crawled into bed to stare at the stars until he fell asleep. ********* Thanks for reading my tale! I know this chapter doesn't have one of my characteristic hooks at the end, but rest assured the story isn't finished yet! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks again for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-58

Date: Fri, 21 Jun 2024 16:55:35 +0000 From: DurtyRiter Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 58 Don't forget to contribute to Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 58 The car came to a quick stop, turned around, and went back down the ramp from whence it had come. Andrew barely noticed. He was completely engrossed and engulfed by the hot man before him talking dirty-�or rather yelling dirty, actually�-and egging him on as he plowed his hot ass. The pain from the dry and aggressive first entry quickly melted away as his pre-cum provided some much-needed slick to the tight hole he was filling with his hard and swollen cock. It was clearly not as easy for John, who Andrew could see wincing slightly even as he demanded a harder fuck in no uncertain terms. His first outdoors sex just a few weeks ago in the side of a cliff seemed pale compared to this. This was not in the woods in the middle of nowhere. This was in the city in a public garage where random strangers could come by at any moment like the car from a moment ago. For all he knew, there might be a security camera filming them right now. There might even be a security guard watching them through his monitor at this moment. For that matter, the guard could have already called the police on them. But now he was unleashed and with John pushing him on, there was no stopping. "Damn, boy," growled John. "That's it! Fuck me! Shoot that load and claim my ass now!" Sweat dripped from Andrew's brow down onto John, and his face was deep red with exertion. His muscles were all taut and working at a fevered pitch with a singular mission to give John his all. With a gasp, John arched his back and his ass tightened around Andrew's nightstick as he shot a healthy load all over his furry trunk. That was enough to push Andrew over the edge and he started blasting hot cum into John in powerful bursts. "Yes! Yes! YES!" cried John, who reached down to grab Andrew's ass and pull him as deep into himself as he could and hold him there. Andrew's next waves of shots picked up in intensity again instead of just tapering off. Could you orgasm a second time before you were even done shooting from the first one? Apparently! It felt like he'd never stop cumming. He was sure his double load wouldn't stay up inside John when he pulled out. He could still feel his cock pulsing, but he was pretty sure it had finally stopped spewing any more cream at this point. Reality started to creep back in now, and Andrew started to look toward the ramp to see if anyone else was coming up and began to ease his dick out before John brought him up short. "Off!" John barked. Thinking he was unwittingly hurting him, Andrew whipped his red tool out of John's chute in one quick jerk and hopped back. John's hole was very red and puffy with some of Andrew's seed leaking out. "Boxers! Now!" Andrew scrambled to find them and hand them to John, but when he extended his hand, John just looked at him and then down at his junk. Andrew balled them up to wipe down John's belly, but was again brought up short. "Those are boxers, not a rag," he stated flatly. Andrew hesitated. "Un-ball those and put them on me�-NOW!" Andrew got it then and put them back on John before reaching for his jeans. The smell of the fresh cum that was starting to seep down in thick drips (that he wasn't allowed to clean up in the slightest bit) was intoxicating as he re-dressed his man. Some of it promptly dripped onto John's jeans when he stood up on his own. John seemed oblivious to the mess. Andrew turned to gather his things, but... "Get in the car!" ordered John. "Now!" Andrew obeyed instantly, even putting on his seatbelt as was his natural habit. But doing so completely nude was a new thing. John grabbed Andrew's stuff and carelessly tossed them in the back seat before climbing in himself. Were they just driving away like this? Andrew was not interested in getting arrested for indecent exposure. He unbuckled his seatbelt and started to reach back for his clothes before John again brought him up short. "Put that seatbelt back on," he growled. "But�" "Now!" Andrew did as he was told. John started the car and drove back down the garage to street level. Andrew's heartbeat was racing and his mind was in overdrive. Once again, he had done something he never would have considered on his own. Too many risks, too much exposure, too much not thinking. And it was still happening as he was being driven around stark naked in the passenger seat of a car. A convertible. With the top down. It was so...dangerous. He was absolutely scared. And absolutely excited. What was John doing to him? He was becoming a reckless mess of a horndog, a slave to his own libido and the directions of a man he had allowed to be his boyfriend, doing things no normal person would do. Or would they? He had no idea what "normal" people did behind closed doors. Oh, he was quite familiar with all the ridiculously unlikely scenarios in porn (too familiar, if he was quite honest), but that was not reality. The, um, acting of all the impossibly good looking and well-endowed stars was usually hilariously bad with scripts that were even worse. No, there was very little of real life to those. An enticing fantasy world that crumbled with any degree of scrutiny. Which is why no one cared to do so. It was just an avenue to get off with. Then again, John had made his life much more like that world with all the implausible locations and situations, cheesy jokes, and most of all, his sheer sex appeal. It was irresistible. Or was it? Truth be told, Andrew could have said no to almost all of it. It was easy to blame John, but he was just the catalyst for Andrew's metamorphosis. He had even set some of it up himself, after all. And tonight was just crazy. He knew that John purposely got him excited, which was not exceptionally abnormal, but for him to bring out some of that aggressive dominate side was fun. It had clearly been hovering right at the edge of things the entire time and only, ahem, coming out in short glimpses. It was always playing second fiddle to making sure Andrew was enjoying all the fun. Today was different. As soon as John parked the car, he ordered Andrew around and clearly brooked no resistance. And Andrew had almost instinctually responded to John's command voice. It heightened everything and left no room for equivocation or doubt. Just action. And for all of John's earlier talk about masters not being bottoms, he sure went a long way to making that a myth. Barking orders and then lying himself back and demanding that Andrew drill him hard without lube... Damn was that hot! He looked over at John. He seemed completely at ease with both hands on the wheel and paying attention to driving. He didn't seem to notice that his clothes were all stuck to him weirdly from the jizz that had dried in place on his chest and stomach and the globs that had fallen onto his jeans. His boxers must be clinging to his cock, balls, and waist underneath those jeans, too. Despite the breeze, Andrew could still smell the essence of cum emanating from his hot body. John glanced his way briefly and smiled at him. It could have been Andrew's imagination, but there seemed to be a hint more predator to it than before. Andrew thought about talking, but he wasn't sure if the "scene" was over yet. He decided it was still in effect since he was still naked and so kept silent. There wasn't a whole lot of traffic to wade through at this time of night, but Andrew was very conscious of every car and especially every big truck. He hadn't felt that John's car was conspicuously low before, but now it was like every car on the road was higher and full of people who could look down at him. It was petrifying and a total rush at the same time. All he could do was consciously act as normal as possible so he wouldn't inspire any interest at all from passersby. Andrew glanced down at his own lap and saw that he was fully hard again despite the chilling breeze that had him shivering. John must have noticed too, because he turned the heat up all the way and directed the vents toward Andrew. It helped, but he was grateful they didn't have far to go. As fun as it was to be bossed around by John Dom, Andrew would never allow himself to just be a doormat in perpetuity again. He had a couple relationships like that before where he accommodated bossy and controlling guys, and he was unwilling to go down that road anymore. It took too long to find himself again after he finally got out of them. While John's nature was very different from those jerks from his past, Andrew was quite aware that there were similarities. Push and pull between them should be normal and even good, but in his opinion, boyfriends should ultimately be equals. That was probably the root of why he had been having so many doubts about the relationship for so long: he felt John was way out of his league and thus being equal was inconceivable. He was grateful for John's effort and Bill's perspective to help him see that just because he was different, it didn't make him less of a person. And now he was fully invested in becoming more of himself so they could be more equal�-at least in confidence. Encourage him to stand up for himself and then turn around and order him around, will you, John? We'll see about that! With that thought in mind, he started concocting his "revenge" scenario for later. That kept him occupied�-and hard�-for the rest of the drive back to John's place. After John parked his car under its arch, he glanced over and saw Andrew's boner still sticking up proudly from his crotch. As Andrew moved to take off his seatbelt, John finally spoke for the first time since the parking garage. "Looks like you might have a condition there, buddy. Don't get out just yet, okay?" "Okay..." Andrew answered uncertainly. John got out and came around the car to open Andrew's door before he dropped down to his knees. He leaned close to give Andrew's cock a good inspection. "You know they say you need to call a doctor if you stay hard for more than two hours," he began. "It hasn't been two hours," Andrew replied. "No, but I just want to be sure you're okay." And just like that, he went down on Andrew's pole. "I'm fine," Andrew insisted. "I don't know if�ooh!" John's skills took over from that point, and in a complete atmospheric turnabout from the rooftop escapade, this was the most sensuous and almost worshipful blow job Andrew had ever gotten. Hands, tongue, lips, mouth, and breath were all used to coax and stimulate every millimeter of Andrew's manhood. Sometimes the lightest touch, sometimes the deepest swallow, sometimes the hungriest suction, with the speed changing as appropriate. Andrew was breathless and gasping the entire time John worked his magic until Andrew shot his third load in less than half an hour, filling John's hungry mouth with tasty spunk. When Andrew's spasms subsided, John meticulously licked him clean of any trace. Andrew's dick finally started to wilt a bit a few moments later. "Oh good!" John joked. "No emergency room visits tonight." "Good thing," Andrew remarked drily. "I don't think I can handle anything more today. I'm exhausted." "Yeah, it has been a long day," John agreed. "Meeting your family, then the birthday bash at the bar, and then....parking. But I wouldn't have traded any of it for anything." "Me neither," Andrew said softly. "You're amazing." "So are you," John said as he leaned in for a nice kiss that lasted a few moments. "Want to stay the night again?" "I don't dare. I'd call in tomorrow and I need to work." "I suspected as much," John admitted. "But you are welcome anytime. Now that you know where I live, of course." "Of course," laughed Andrew. "Can I get dressed now?" "Oh!" exclaimed John. "Of course! In fact, let me help!" John grabbed Andrew's clothes (well, technically his own) out of the back and then dressed Andrew with all the care of a professional valet. When he was finished, he patted Andrew's chest. "There you are, sir. All dressed and ready to go." "Thank you, John," Andrew replied in his best aristocratic air before he broke into laughter. "I love you." "I love you too," John answered as he pulled him into a deep embrace. "So very much." Andrew spared another good night kiss before he made his exit back out to his car through the old iron gate. It really had been a long day and Andrew was tired, but he managed to get home safely without falling asleep. As he pulled up and waited for the garage door to open, he looked over his place with fresh (if tired) eyes. The dark gray siding made it almost look black at night, but white trim outlined the porch, windows, and doors. It had a very modern feel to it despite its Craftsman style. The brick walk led to the wide front porch with its multi-paneled deep red front door and the flanking porch lights added some warmth. He chose all these elements when he overhauled the place shortly after he moved in and it had held up well. The landscaping was lovely as well, with small flower beds around the outside of the even green lawn, but that was a splurge that he paid other people for. He pondered what it would be like to let go of it. It was a nice place, he knew, and would be easy to sell if he wanted to. He wondered briefly if he would miss it, but with some surprise, he decided that he really wouldn't all that much. As nice and comfortable as it was, it held a lot of memories of hard times interspersed with long bouts of loneliness. He didn't particularly want those reminders and he realized he was ready for a change. He tried not to get ahead of himself, but he felt energized and excited whenever he thought of that old abandoned nursery. The challenge of it spoke to him. And the possibility of moving forward with his lifelong dream added a sense of almost euphoric anticipation. He was definitely going to crunch some real numbers to see if it was a reasonable swing. But that was for tomorrow. Plus, he had no idea what the house was like since he hadn't seen it when they visited the site. He parked his Subaru dead center in the middle of the double car garage before he texted John to let him know he had made it home safely. He made his way up to bed and barely got his clothes off before he was sound asleep. He didn't even stir when John texted him back... ********* What do you think should happen next? I look forward to hearing from you! If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/unexpected-naked-interview

Date: Tue, 12 Nov 2024 01:28:22 +0000 (UTC) From: J Zander Subject: Unexpected Naked Interview, first of several parts It's the story of a "straight" guy who gets an interview for a job that turns out to be as a sexual play thing to the VP of a big corporation. There's domination, bondage, some humiliation, some cum-eating, and a little spanking. Tom checked his tie in the mirror again. He'd worn his best suit for this interview and he'd be damned if he didn't look perfect. The suit was tailored, dark blue, and fit him really well. He'd normally have saved the money, but his gym addiction had made most off-the-rack suits rip their seams if he flexed the wrong way. Not that he was over-jacked or anything. Just the right amount, he thought, more a wrestlers build than a linebacker. He might have overdone the glutes a little but hey -- the ladies loved some fine ass! The tie was silk, light blue, and between that and the suit they set off his eyes really well. He tucked back an errant lock of hair, the only few black strands to escape the mild pomade he'd used. Just enough to hold, not enough that someone couldn't run their hands through his hair. Tom practiced his easy smile and then headed out to the waiting room. It wasn't crowded. There was a slim blond guy and a kind of scruffy muscled dude, both wearing suits. The scruffy dude looked like he was more likely to be a bartender than a high-end executive assistant, but who was Tom to judge? The personal assistant looked up as a pretty strikingly good looking guy stepped out of the inner office. The guy looked a little disheveled, his hair askew, and his tie was undone. Tom wondered if the job required doing push-ups as part of the interview, but maybe the poor dude had just stopped on the way out to loosen up a little. He clutched a copy of his resume in one hand. The dude looked around and then headed out of the office. The personal assistant looked at a clipboard and then called out "Tom?" Tom stood up and went over. "Here, ma'am." She looked him up and down. "Right. Step inside," she gestured at the inner door, "and follow the instructions of Mr. Adams. You'll be interviewed by Mr. Holworth and Mr. Adams." "Yes, ma'am." Tom stepped over to the door, turned the knob, and then stepped into the office. If there'd been any doubt that this interview was for an Executive Assistant to the VP of Sales for Bright Corp., the corner office with an expansive view of the midtown Manhattan would have dispelled it. The interior of the office was done in midcentury modern wood panelling, with a massive wooden executive desk, and curvy chairs in a subdued orange fabric. The door to the office hissed slightly when it closed automatically behind Tom. A man immediately to his left got a little closer. "Hi Tom, I'm Mr. Adams. Mr. Holworth will be joining us in a few minutes. He was called away. Meanwhile, you'll want to get ready." "Yes, sir. Where do you want me?" Tom gestured at the two chairs on this side of the large desk. Mr. Adams smiled. "You'll want to strip now." Tom blinked. "Uh, what?" "Strip. Take your clothes off." Mr. Adams pointed at one of the orange chairs. "Then neatly fold your clothes and put them there." Tom stared at the guy stupidly. "What?" Mr. Adams frowned. "Was I unclear? Take your clothes off, so I can prepare you for Mr. Holworth when he returns. He'll want to finger you a little and maybe fuck you if the mood strikes him. He'll also want you to suck his cock, of course. Didn't you read the briefing papers we sent you?" Tom swallowed. "Um, look, sir, I have no idea what papers you're talking about and I'm here for the Executive Assistant position to Mr. Holworth." Mr. Adams threw up his hands. "Are you kidding me? That kid in the postal room would be so fucking fired if it weren't for his phenomenal ass. He was supposed to hand deliver papers to you, get a signature, and make sure you read everything before he left. Did you even see someone from our company yesterday?" Tom shook his head emphatically. "No, sir. I would have remembered that." Adams snorted. "I'm sure. Ok, then let me break this down for you. Mr. Holworth is a busy, important man. He hardly has time to socialize, much less find someone for sex. So instead he hires a guy to ... help him with that. The papers included an NDA and a request for a blood test. Shit!" Adams strode across to a bookcase, removed a binder, and pulled out several papers. "Ok, here's the NDA, and an outline of your duties. What?" Tom was looking at him in some alarm. "Uh, I'm straight?" "So why did you apply -- oh, right, you didn't know the full scope of your duties. Ok, so are you willing to do some gay for pay?" Tom felt himself go hot and cold. "I, uh, I mean--" "Let me guess, you've had thoughts but were pretty convinced you were straight this whole time. Ok, let's see if it's even worth our time. Answer me this question: have you ever looked at a guy and thought `Nice ass'?" Tom flushed and started to sweat a little. "Uh, I mean--" Adams nodded and smiled. "That's a yes. Ok. And if I offered to kneel down right here and suck your cock, how would you respond?" Tom swallowed. "I, uh, I mean, is this door....?" "Soundproof, yes. Lots of confidential stuff happens in here, including some pretty vigorous fucking, which involves a lot of yelling. We're skating close enough to HR problems as it is, being overheard is not going to happen." Tom nodded. "Then, um, I mean--" Adams moved over into Tom's space, gave him a smirk, and knelt. He reached up and lightly grasped Tom's balls through his well-tailored and unexpectedly thin pants. Tom gasped. "Holy shit!" "Yes. Now do you want me to unzip your pants, pull out your," Adams felt a little higher with his thumb, "half-hard cock, and give you the craziest blowjob of your life?" Tom shook a little and sweat some more. "Um, uh, I mean." He pulled in a deep breath, held it, and let it out again. "Yes, sir." Adams smiled up at him. "Yes, sir, what?" Tom shook himself again, admitted to himself that this situation was so hot he might pass out, and then looked down at the man he could finally admit was pretty fucking handsome. "Yes, sir, please suck my cock." Adams outright grinned at this, pulled his hand off Tom's balls, and then worked to unzip Tom's trousers. Carefully, he pulled the zipper down. The he put a hand into Tom's pants, which made him gasp, and pulled out his fully erect cock. "Nice. And fully hard. Let's see how it tastes." Tom groaned as Adams' lips, soft and experienced lips, circled his cock. Then Tom groaned deeper when Adams began using his tongue. Between the crazy situation, the newness of the experience of having a guy suck his cock, and how fucking turned on he was, Tom came in mere moments. Adams wiped his mouth and stood up. "Well, tasty but that was kind of brief." Tom swallowed, still shaking a little from the orgasm. His softening cock jumped around a little. "Sorry, sir." "Don't sweat it. Heat of the moment. So, what do you think about doing the rest of the interview?" Tom took a shaky breath and wiped sweat from his forehead. "Uh, is um, Mr. Holworth as hot as you?" Mr. Adams smiled in an almost predatory way. "Hotter, if you like older muscle daddies. I guess you'll find out. And thanks for saying I'm hot. A word of warning, though, keep using `sir' after everything you say if you don't want to endure quite a lot of spanking." Tom nodded. "Yes, sir." "You see? You might do very well in this job, despite your inexperience. Now strip." Tom handed his resume to Adams. Then he took off his tie, his jacket, his shirt (slowly so as not to rip anything), then undid his pants and let them fall loosely to the floor. He was going commando today. The tailor had insisted that briefs or boxers would ruin the lines of the pants. Tom quickly folded up the suit and shirt, placing it on the chair. Adams looked him up and down. "Nice definition." Adams stepped over to Tom, ran his hands down Tom's bare back, and had a good feel of one of his ass cheeks. "Ok, Tom, join me at the desk." "Yes, sir." Tom stepped over to the large desk, looking out briefly at the dizzying view, before bringing his eyes back up to Adams. Mr. Adams looked him up and down. "Hold out your hands." Tom did and looked with some dismay at the padded leather cuffs that Mr. Adams secured to his wrists. Each of the cuffs had a D-ring on them. "How do you feel about bondage?" Tom snorted. "I was fine with it when I was tying up some chick, but I guess the restraints are on the other foot." Mr. Adams snorted. "Speaking of which." He picked up two more leather cuffs, knelt in front of Tom, and affixed them to his ankles. The he stood back up. "I assume that means you're ready to sign the NDA and consent forms?" "Yeah, I mean, yes, sir." Tom sighed. "How much does this pay again?" Mr. Adams smiled. "And that's why you're currently at the top of my mental list for this job, Tom. You didn't ask that question until well after the blowjob and taking off your clothes. You did ask before you got lashed to a desk and fucked, which is a point in your favor." After signing the papers, Mr. Adams took a drop of his blood for a rapid STI test, then ran Tom through some semi-embarrassing personal cleanup in the half-bath hidden behind a wood panel. Tom hadn't realized what a guy who wants to have a dick up his ass had to go through. Despite all that, the intimidating paperwork, and the flushing, Tom realized that he was still buzzing with sexual energy. He was seriously turned on. "Alright, now stand here," Adams put his hands on Tom's shoulders and guided him to a spot on the carpeting that was away from the desk, but in full view of the small door at the back of the office. "Put your arms behind your back and clasp your hands. This position shows off your chest better and puts you in the right submissive light." Tom nodded. "Yes, sir." Mr. Adams smiled at him. "Excellent. Now wait here and I'll be back with Mr Holworth." Mr. Adams exited through the small back door. Tom stood waiting. He looked around the office some more. Then it occurred to him that he was standing naked in the middle of an executive office at a Fortune 100 company, about to be potentially fucked by one of its VPs. Or that the secretary outside could pop in at any moment and see him . He started to sweat a little. The small door popped open and two men entered. One was Mr. Adams, who stood to one side of the door. The other was presumably Mr. Holworth. The man was in his early forties, a little over six feet tall, and even though an exquisitely tailored suit, Tom could see that the man was jacked. Tom swallowed. He hadn't know that he had a fantasy hot dad in his head, but that man had just stepped into the room with him. Mr. Holworth strode over to his desk, set down a small stack of papers and folders, then regarded Tom. He looked down to his feet, then slowly back up his naked body to his eyes. Tom felt a thrill like lightning zip up and down his spine when Holworth's eyes met his. "Adams, I'll want three copies of this report, and your opinion about it when you get back. Don't hurry." "Yes, sir." Adams took the report from Holworth's hand and then left, pulling the small door shut. Mr. Holworth walked slowly over to Tom, assessing him the whole time. Tom felt like he was being stalked by a large cat. By way of greeting, Holworth casually took ahold of Tom's balls. His hands were a bit cold. Tom gasped. "Adams tells me that you're mostly straight but quite willing to provide me with sexual play if I employ you here, is that right?" Tom swallowed, having trouble speaking with this man holding his balls. "Yes, sir." "And do you think I'm hot?" Tom sighed a little. "Yes, sir." "Good. Now, I'm going to unzip my pants. I want you to kneel and suck my cock. If you can successfully swallow me when I cum, you'll have the job. But you can't spill a single drop of cum on the carpeting. Do you understand?" Tom gasped as Holworth tightened his grip on his balls, not painfully, just very firmly. "Yes, sir, I understand." Holworth smiled, though not in a friendly way. "Excellent. Hmm, you know, instead of doing it here, I'm going to do some work at my desk. While I'm doing that, crawl under the desk, unzip my pants, then take out my cock, and suck." "Yes, sir." Holworth leaned down a little and kissed Tom's neck. "Mmm, very nice. Alright, let's begin." Mr. Holworth walked back over to the desk, sat, and rolled his chair forward until he was right up against the desk. Tom knelt, got on all fours, and crawled over to the desk, then under it. Holworth had tree-trunk thighs, spread wide, and a bulge in the front of his pants. Tom moved over, and with only slightly shaky hands, carefully unzipped the expensive trousers. Holworth had also been going commando, because his large cock flopped out immediately. He was either massive or was already getting hard. Tom rolled spit around his mouth, then leaned forward and took Holworth into his mouth. The taste was salty, slightly sweet for some reason, and very manly. The scent of him flooded Tom's senses and almost made him dizzy. He started to go up and down on the man's cock, remembering to keep his teeth covered, and to add some tongue action. Tom hadn't thought himself in any way gay, but he'd definitely watched his share of bisexual porn. He had some inkling of how a proper blow job should go. Tom was also surprised to find out that sucking cock was actually a lot of fun. After a few minutes of this, Holworth put his hand on Tom's head, ran his fingers into Tom's hair, and began guiding him up and down. Then Holworth held Tom's head down, firmly, onto his cock. Tom choked, struggling to breath. Holworth held him on his cock right up until Tom was starting to see stars, then let go. Tom fell back under the desk, gasping. Holworth got up from the desk and came around, helping Tom up. Once Tom was standing again, Holworth reached around and put a hand on Tom's ass. "Very nice, Tom. That was an adequate blowjob; we'll have to train you a bit on technique. Now let's see how you do with anal penetration and stimulation." Tom felt his heart beat faster and a blush run over his body. He was shivering a little in both fear and sexual arousal. Holworth guided him by his shoulders over to the end of the desk away from the small door. Holworth firmly pushed him over until Tom was bent at the waist, his chest resting on the cold polished wood of the desk. Then Holworth knelt and did something below the desk. There was a metallic clink sound, and Tom felt his legs being pulled wider and then he felt a tug on the ankle cuffs. Tom could sense Holworth standing behind him, and then he watched as the man pulled his left arm off the side of the desk and attached it to something. Holworth did the same with the other arm. Tom was now spread-eagle, bent over the desk, his ass on show for whomever wanted to look -- or touch. Holworth caressed his ass. "Very nice, Tom. Very nice indeed. You have an excellent body. Are you ready to be probed and fucked?" Tom had a little trouble speaking but said it as clearly as he could: "Yes, sir." "Excellent." Holworth rattled drawer in his desk, then circled round to behind me. Tom could only vaguely see what was going on behind him, if he turned his head just right. Holworth had something in his hand and then cold lube -- it could only be lube -- dribbled on Tom's ass. He gasped. Holworth then began rubbing the rub around his ass crack, paying special attention to Tom's anus. After a moment of this, Mr. Holworth pushed a finger into Tom. It was painful. The finger was in right to the knuckles. Holworth turned the finger, and it felt like he was probing for something. After a moment, he found something inside Tom's ass and rubbed his finger against it. Tom moaned, loudly. Holworth made a noise of pleasure at getting this reaction. For a good minute, he rubbed Tom's prostate vigorously with his finger. With his other hand, he stroked Tom's cock, and rubbed his balls. Tom floated in a spiky cloud of pleasure. There was still a little pain having his ass prodded like that but also some pleasure, which began to ratchet up higher and higher the more Holworth finger-fucked him. Tom was drooling on the desk, a constantly low moan coming out of him despite his will be to quiet. The pleasure was just too much. Tom came; urgently, suddenly, and with such force that he saw stars. It was fantastic. Tom struggled to catch his breath. Holworth stood up and came around to Tom's panting face. "That was excellent, Tom. A little quick, but I'm guessing all these new sensations are a little overwhelming. You'll have to do better next time. Now, to make it up to me, you can do two things. First, eat this." Holworth held out his hand next to Tom's mouth. In his palm was a large gob of cum. Tom's cum. Tom looked up at him with wide eyes, then back at the cum. Without a word, Tom found himself licking his own cum from Holworth's hand. His cum was salty, a bit sweet, and a little funky. It made Tom shiver with aftershocks of pleasure at the thought of what he was doing. Holworth was looking at Tom with a pleased expression after he finished. "Excellent. Very good indeed. Now, the second thing you can do is to enjoy yourself as I fuck you for the first time." Tom felt a thrill of fear and unadulterated lust rush through him. He'd had some late night dark fantasies, but never thought --- holy shit! "Yes, sir. Please fuck me, sir." Holworth stood up again, getting around behind Tom, running a hand along his back, and lubed ass. Tom felt something hot and fleshy rub against his ass -- it was Holworth's cock! Tom began to panic a little as he remembered how big Holworth's member was. He'd barely been able to swallow it! Holworth rubbed the tip of his cock in Tom's ass crack, coating it with lube, and after a moment, he started to push in. Tom made an injured sound. The pain was intense. Holworth's cock was too big! "Please!" He called out. Holworth put his hands on Tom's waist, holding him still. Tom had been squirming to get away. Holworth kept pushing in, slowly but surely. Tom felt a pop sensation as the bulbous head of Holworth cock made it past Tom's ass-ring. The pain was slightly less than before but still bad. Tom wanted that cock out. It was too big! After a long slow torturous time, Holworth had his cock all the way up Tom's ass. He stopped moving and began stroking Tom's well-muscled back, now slick with sweat, and giving his ass a good squeeze several times. Holworth waited until Tom's frantic breathing calm down. For Tom's part, the shock of the pain was being replaced by the mind-blowing but oddly erotic feeling of having a large hot cock in his ass. He felt stuffed like he'd never felt before. The feeling of that cock, along with the sensation of being thoroughly dominated by an older man -- a hot older man -- was simply amazing. Tom felt his own cock, now dangling off the side of the desk, start to get hard. Holworth stayed still, stroking Tom's back, for several minutes. Eventually, Holworth couldn't stand it any longer, and slowly began pulling back his cock. Tom groaned and moaned in equal measure. There was a bit more pain at the withdrawal but also a lightning bolt of erotic pleasure. Holworth slowly built up a steady motion: in, pause, out, pause, in, and repeat. He kept the pace slow at first, letting Tom enjoy the fuck. Then he began pounding Tom like a machine. From the gasps, groans, and squeals, Holworth could tell that Tom was having fun. That was a nice side benefit. Holworth liked his fuck men to have some pleasure. It kept them coming back. After several minutes of this, Holworth eventually reached his crescendo and came inside Tom. The sensation was exquisite and Tom's ass, despite his lack of experience, had been divine. Holworth pulled down, cleaned his cock off with a rag, and put his dick away. With one hand rubbing Tom's back, he picked up the phone. "Adams? I'm done with Tom. If he's interested, offer him the job." Holworth hung up the phone. "Well, Tom, what did you think?" Tom struggled to catch his breath, licked his lips, and looked up at Holworth. "That, sir, was the best sex I've ever had." Holworth smiled genuinely. "For a newcomer to man-on-man sex, that's excellent to hear." Holworth picked up papers from his desk. "Now, I have a meeting to get to. Please clean your cum off the floor before you go. Adams can help you with that." "Yes, sir." Tom said as Holworth left again. The large regular door opened and Adams stepped in. He raised his eyebrows. "Wow, gave you the full experience, did he? You ok?" Tom nodded, his face still flat against the desk. "Yes, sir, I think so." Adams let the door shut behind him, walked over to the desk, and lightly fondled Tom's ass. "Well that's good, especially for a newbie. Holworth can be a little rough at the best of times." Adams fondled Tom a bit more. "Say, do you think you're up for another fuck?" Tom groaned. "I guess so, sir. My ass is sore though, sir." "Oh, no worries, I'm not nearly as big as Mr. Holworth. This should mostly be enjoyable." With that, Adams unzipped his pants, pulled out his medium-sized cock, and applied some lube to it. Then he lined up and pushed into Tom. For his part, Tom groaned. Adams was right, there wasn't nearly as much pain as before. Not none but the fucking turned to pleasure far sooner than it had with Mr. Holworth. The two of them did plenty of moaning and about ten minutes later, Adams came. He stayed firmly planted up Tom's fine ass, resting on his hands placed on the desk to either side of Tom's naked torso. Adams breathed heavy, catching his breath. The cock in Tom's ass deflated and Adams pulled out. Then he wiped himself off, put his cock away, and zipped up. Then Mr. Adams unlatched Tom from the desk and helped him to stand up. Tom was shaky and his ass ached, both in pain and in very, very satisfying pleasure. Tom was still breathing deep. "Um, Mr. Adams, sir, Mr. Holworth said that I should clean up my cum." Tom pointed at the spray of cum just beneath the desk. Adams smiled in a kind of predatory way. "You'll find that Mr. Holworth is stickler for cleanliness. He expects all his fuck men to clean up their sprays by tongue." Tom widened his eyes. "Tongue, uh, sir?" Adams tweaked one of Tom's nipples, causing him to yelp. "Yes, Tom, get on your knees, crawl over there, and lick up the mess you made. Make sure to get all of it." Tom swallowed, then complied. While he licked up his own cum, Adams applied a few swats to Tom's ass. Tom felt that was really unfair. If he kept doing that, he was likely to cum on the carpet again.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/doctor-is-a-daddy

Date: Tue, 12 Nov 2024 14:50:22 +0000 From: ScorpionBSMUK Subject: Doctor is a Daddy Doctor is a daddy Bill's footsteps echoed through the clinic's corridor, each tap of his worn-out sneakers against the polished floorboards a reminder of his anxiety. He clutched his medical file tightly, the edges digging into his palm as he approached the door labeled "Dr. Castelli." The air had the scent of antiseptic, a smell that never quite disappeared no matter how much air freshener they used. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the unknown. The doctor's office was surprisingly warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the sterile corridor outside. A large wooden desk sat in the corner, piled with medical journals and a framed photo of a smiling family. Dr. Castelli looked up from his paperwork, his piercing gaze meeting Bill's. He was a towering figure, with a thick beard and chest hair that peeked out from his open collar. Bill's eyes darted away, his heart racing as the doctor beckoned him closer with a firm, yet gentle gesture. "Good afternoon, Bill," Dr. Castelli said in a deep, soothing voice with a hint of an Italian accent. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. Now, let's get you comfortable, shall we?" Bill nodded nervously, his eyes lingering on the examination table that was covered with a crisp, white sheet. The doctor's demeanor was both professional and comforting, which only added to Bill's confusion about his sudden urge to submit to this man's authority. "Alright, Bill," Dr. Castelli said, his tone firm yet kind. "I need you to strip down to your underwear so I can give you a thorough check-up. It's important that I understand your body's condition." Bill's cheeks flushed as he began to undress, his hands trembling slightly as he revealed his stocky, hairy frame. The doctor nodded approvingly, his eyes scanning Bill's body with a practiced eye. "You're a hairy boy, aren't you?" he commented, not unkindly. Bill felt a peculiar mix of embarrassment and excitement, his thoughts swirling like leaves in a storm. As the examination continued, Dr. Castelli's touch was surprisingly tender, his hands moving with confidence across Bill's body. When he told Bill to remove his underwear, Bill's voice slipped, and he called the doctor "Daddy" by accident. The room grew still, the only sound the beating of Bill's heart. Dr. Castelli looked up, his eyes holding Bill's for a brief moment before he spoke. "I think you know what you are, Bill," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're a submissive, and you need a strong hand to guide you, to take care of you. To be your daddy." Bill felt a jolt of arousal at the words, his eyes wide with shock and curiosity. The doctor's gaze was intense, as if he could see right through Bill's soul. "If you wish to explore this side of yourself, make another appointment. You'll know what to do when you come back." With that, he handed Bill a clean gown and turned away to wash his hands, leaving Bill to contemplate the unexplored desires that had just been uncovered. The journey home was a blur for Bill. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each more confusing than the last. He kept replaying the doctor's words in his mind, the way his heart had fluttered when Dr. Castelli had called him "hairy boy." The feeling of vulnerability and desire was overwhelming, and by the time he reached his apartment, he was practically vibrating with need. Without fully understanding why, Bill found himself in the bathroom, beard trimmer in hand, attacking the thick pelt on his chest and stomach with fervor. The buzz of the clippers filled the room, and he watched in the mirror as his furry chest became smooth and bare. The sensation was strange, yet exhilarating. He applied shaving foam, the coolness of it against his skin sending a shiver down his spine, and then the smoothness of the razor as it glided over his now-exposed flesh. The scent of mint and alcohol filled the room, a stark contrast to the sweetness of his own arousal. Once finished, Bill stared at his reflection, his newfound smoothness a stark contrast to the rest of his hairy body. His hand hovered over the phone, his thoughts racing. He knew what Dr. Castelli had hinted at, and the prospect both terrified and excited him. With trembling fingers, he dialed the clinic's number and requested an appointment with the doctor in a few days' time. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, but there was also an undeniable thrill at the thought of returning to the man who had so easily uncovered his deepest desires. When the day of the appointment arrived, Bill walked into the clinic with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The same nurse greeted him with a friendly smile, seemingly oblivious to the tumultuous emotions that were churning within him. He took his seat in the waiting room, his eyes locked on the clock as the minutes ticked by. The anticipation was palpable, his body already responding to the mere thought of seeing Dr. Castelli again. Finally, the door opened, and the doctor called his name. Bill's heart skipped a beat as he stood up and followed the doctor into the exam room. "You've been a very good boy, Bill," Dr. Castelli said, his eyes scanning Bill's now mostly hairless torso. "Your chest is so much smoother. Did you do that for me?" Bill nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, Daddy." The doctor's smile was warm, his eyes gleaming with approval. Dr. Castelli stepped closer, his large hand resting on Bill's shoulder. "Why did you do it, Bill?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "Because if I'm going to be your boy," Bill managed to say, "I should look better for you than for anyone else." The doctor's grip tightened slightly, and Bill felt a thrill run down his spine. "And are you ready to be my boy?" The question hung in the air, thick with meaning. Bill nodded, his eyes never leaving the doctor's. "Then tell me why you did it." The words spilled out of Bill's mouth, raw and honest. "I did it because I want to be the best for you, Daddy. I want to make you proud." The doctor's smile grew, and he leaned in, his furry cheek brushing against Bill's as he spoke. "Very good boy. You're learning. Now, let me feel your smooth chest." Bill's breath hitched as the doctor's hand moved to his chest, the rough pads of his fingers tracing the smooth skin. The sensation was almost too much, and Bill could feel his arousal growing. Dr. Castelli's touch was firm but gentle, and Bill could feel his own body responding, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. The doctor's eyes never left his, holding his gaze as he explored the new landscape of his chest. "You did well," Dr. Castelli murmured, his voice a rumble that seemed to resonate deep within Bill. "But our time is up for today. When you come back, you'll know what to do." With that, he turned away, his hand lingering on Bill's shoulder for a brief moment before he let go. The appointment was over, but the promise of what was to come was clear. Bill left the clinic with a new sense of purpose, his mind racing with possibilities. He knew he would return, eager to see where this path led, to embrace the submissive desires that Dr. Castelli had so easily brought to the surface. Once home, Bill couldn't help but think of Dr. Castelli as 'Daddy'. The term had rolled off his tongue so naturally, it was as if it had been there all along, waiting to be discovered. The thought of pleasing him was a potent aphrodisiac, driving Bill to act on his instructions with an eagerness that surprised even himself. He made his way to the bathroom, his heart racing with anticipation. The doctor's words echoed in his mind: "I think you know what you are, Bill. You're a submissive, and you need a strong hand to guide you, to take care of you. To be your daddy." Bill nodded to himself, his resolve firm. He would do whatever it took to be the good boy that Daddy Castelli desired. With trembling hands, he picked up his beard trimmer and set to work on the rest of his body. The buzzing filled his apartment, a symphony of transformation. His stomach and legs soon mirrored the smoothness of his chest, the sensation of the cold steel against his skin sending shivers of excitement through his body. He paused only to apply the soothing post-shave lotion, the scent of mint and alcohol now a comforting reminder of the doctor's touch. Then, with a deep breath, he turned his attention to his most intimate area. His ass had always been a source of pride, a dense forest of hair that had been the envy of many. But now, as he gazed at his reflection, Bill knew he had to offer it up to Daddy Castelli, bare and vulnerable. He trimmed carefully, taking his time, thinking of the doctor's firm grip, his approving gaze. When he was done, Bill was left with nothing but soft, bare skin, his body now a canvas waiting to be painted with the strokes of his daddy's dominance. In the days that followed, Bill couldn't get the doctor out of his thoughts. He found himself craving the feeling of submission, the thrill of being taken care of by a strong, authoritative figure. He touched himself at night, imagining Dr. Castelli's large hands on his body, guiding him, pushing him to new heights of pleasure. His dreams were filled with the scent of mint and the gentle rumble of the doctor's voice, calling him 'good boy'. It was an intoxicating mix of fear and desire that had Bill counting down the moments until his next appointment. The night before the appointment, Bill barely slept. His mind was a whirlwind of anticipation, his body a coil of tension waiting to be released. He had never felt so alive, so aware of his own needs and desires. The doctor had seen him, truly seen him, and in doing so had unlocked something within him that he had never known existed. As he lay in bed, his hand sliding over his now-smooth chest, Bill whispered into the darkness, "Thank you, Daddy." The words felt right, a declaration of his newfound self. The next morning, Bill woke early, his body already buzzing with excitement. He showered, making sure to shave any stray hairs that had dared to emerge overnight. He chose his outfit with care, something that would make Daddy proud. As he dressed, he felt the smoothness of his skin against the fabric of his clothes, a constant reminder of what was to come. The wait was unbearable, but he knew it would be worth it. Today, he would offer himself fully to Dr. Castelli, to become the boy he was meant to be. The walk to the clinic was nerve-wracking, his bare chest and legs feeling exposed and vulnerable. He couldn't help but feel self-conscious, as if every eye was on him, judging his lack of fur. His friend Marcus, a burly bear with a thick, lush mane, gave him a quizzical look as they crossed paths at the local coffee shop. "Bill?" Marcus said, squinting. "Is that you?" Bill nodded, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Marcus's eyes traveled down to Bill's collarbone, where his usual thick beard line ended abruptly. "What the hell happened to you, man?" Marcus chuckled, his confusion tinged with disbelief. Bill mumbled something about a new look and hurried away, his heart racing. In the exam room, Dr. Castelli's eyes widened as Bill walked in. "Ah, you've taken my advice to heart, I see," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "Good boy." Bill felt a warmth spread through him at the praise, his body responding despite the embarrassment that still lingered from Marcus's reaction. "Now, let's make sure we're thorough, shall we?" The doctor instructed Bill to strip down completely and stand in the center of the room with his hands behind his head. The cool air hit his bare skin, making him shiver. The doctor's gaze roved over him, scrutinizing every inch. "Turn around, Bill," he said, his voice firm. "I want to see everything." Bill did as he was told, feeling the heat of the doctor's stare as Dr. Castelli approached him from behind. He reached out, his rough, warm hands tracing the line where Bill's hair had once been. "Good," he murmured, his fingertips grazing Bill's ass cheeks. "So smooth. So obedient." Bill felt a thrill of pleasure at the doctor's touch, his cock growing hard. The doctor's hands lingered on Bill's hips before sliding around to his chest, tweaking his nipples gently. Bill gasped, his eyes closing as the sensation shot through him. "But," Dr. Castelli said, his voice a gentle reprimand, "I think there's one more step we need to take if you truly wish to be my boy." He stepped back, his eyes lingering on Bill's crotch. "Before we continue, I want you to visit the piercing parlor. Get yourself a little something down there to remind you of who you belong to." Bill's eyes shot open, his cheeks flushing a deep red. The doctor's smile was knowing, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Don't worry, Bill," he said, patting his cheek. "It's all part of the journey." The appointment came to an end with another firm instruction to book a follow-up. This time, however, there was an extra task to complete beforehand. Bill left the clinic feeling a mix of emotions -- excitement, trepidation, and a burning desire to please Dr. Castelli. The piercing was a declaration of his submission, a symbol of his belonging. He made his way to the piercing parlor, his heart racing as he thought about what was to come. The anticipation was a delicious torment, a sweet agony that fueled his every step. Once inside, he was greeted by a young man with piercings adorning his ears, nose, and eyebrow. Bill's eyes were drawn to the display of gleaming metal bars and rings. He swallowed hard, his palms sweating. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for, the next step in his transformation. He knew what he had to do; he had to be brave, to be the boy that Daddy Castelli wanted. The piercer was kind, explaining the process in detail and asking Bill if he was sure. Bill nodded, his voice firm. "I'm sure," he said, his eyes never leaving the doctor's card in his hand. "I want to do this for him." The piercer nodded, a hint of understanding in his gaze. He led Bill to a chair and began to prep him, the cold metal instruments sending shivers down his spine. As the needle pierced his skin, Bill gritted his teeth, focusing on the pain and the promise it brought. The ring was slipped through, a small, shiny barbell that felt foreign against his sensitive flesh. But it was a good kind of strange, a reminder of the path he had chosen. The walk home was a mix of pain and pleasure, each step a declaration of his submission. He could feel the cool metal pressing against him with every movement, a constant reminder of his new role. The pain was a strange comfort, a symbol of his obedience. Bill couldn't wait to show Dr. Castelli what he had done, to prove that he was worthy of being called his boy. The days leading up to the appointment were a mix of excitement and fear. Would the doctor be proud of him? Would he still want him now that he was so bare, so exposed? Bill touched the barbell, his thoughts swirling with anticipation. He knew he had to be ready, to show Daddy that he was committed to this new dynamic. He cleaned the piercing meticulously, following the aftercare instructions to the letter. It was a small price to pay for the thrill of belonging. Finally, the day of the appointment arrived. Bill's stomach was in knots as he approached the clinic, his hand resting protectively over his fresh piercing. He was greeted by the same nurse -- a chubby stocky ginger bear- his eyes widening slightly when he saw his new look. "You look... different," he said, his voice carefully neutral. Bill managed a small smile, his cheeks flaming. "It's for Dr. Castelli," he murmured, feeling a thrill of excitement at the mention of the man's name. He nodded, his gaze lingering before he called the doctor. Dr. Castelli's office was just as warm and comforting as before, the scent of his cologne wrapping around Bill like a fur blanket. The doctor's eyes lit up when he saw the piercing, his smile growing wide. "You've been a very good boy, Bill," he said, his voice thick with approval. "I knew you'd do it." He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to trace the barbell. "You're mine now, aren't you?" Bill nodded, his eyes never leaving the doctor's. "Yes, Daddy." The words felt right, like the final piece of a puzzle sliding into place. Dr. Castelli's hand traveled up to Bill's chest, his thumb flicking over Bill's sensitive nipple. Bill's breath caught, his body responding to the doctor's touch. "You're going to need to come back for regular check-ups," the doctor murmured, his eyes dark with desire. "To make sure everything is as it should be." The examination was thorough, Dr. Castelli's eyes raking over Bill's body with a hunger that was both thrilling and terrifying. The doctor's hands roamed, caressing his smooth skin, exploring every inch of him. Bill felt like a treasure to be discovered, a canvas to be painted with the doctor's love. When Dr. Castelli was finished, he leaned in close, his breath hot against Bill's ear. "You're mine," he whispered, his hand wrapping around Bill's cock. "Now and forever." The appointment ended with a promise of more, a promise of a future filled with love, dominance, and submission. Bill left the clinic feeling both exposed and protected, his body a symbol of his commitment. The world outside had not changed, but he had. He was Dr. Castelli's boy, and he was ready to embrace the journey ahead. With each step, he felt the weight of his new identity, the thrill of his submission. It was a feeling that would never leave him, a bond that grew stronger with every passing day. The days ticked by, each one more agonizing than the last. Bill's thoughts were consumed by the doctor's instructions, his hand often straying to the piercing in his cock. He shaved meticulously, not wanting to disappoint Daddy Castelli. His smooth skin was a testament to his obedience, a canvas for the doctor's desires. The anticipation grew with every stroke of the razor, each pass over his skin bringing him closer to his next appointment. Finally, the day arrived. Bill's heart raced as he stood before the mirror, his eyes lingering on his bare chest and the shiny ring that adorned his cock. He knew what was expected of him, knew the final step he had to take. With trembling hands, he picked up the phone and called the clinic. "It's Bill," he whispered into the receiver. "I'm ready for my next appointment." The receptionist's voice was cool and professional, but Bill could hear the hint of curiosity. He booked him in for later that afternoon. As he lay on the exam table, his heart hammering in his chest, Bill knew what was coming. Dr. Castelli's hand was warm and steady as he approached Bill's cock, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You've done so well, Bill," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "Now, for the final step." He held up the syringe, the needle glinting in the harsh office light. "An injection to shrink it down to size." Bill felt a flicker of fear, the first time he had dared to hesitate. But the doctor's grip was firm, his voice unyielding. "You know you want this, Bill. You need it. You need to be my proper boy." The doctor's words washed over him like a warm embrace, and Bill felt his resistance crumble. He took a deep breath and nodded, his eyes filling with tears. "Yes, Daddy." The sting of the needle was nothing compared to the wave of submission that crashed over him. He watched, his vision blurring, as his cock began to shrink before his very eyes. The pain was intense, but it was a pain that brought him closer to Dr. Castelli, closer to the life he had always craved. The doctor's praise washed over him, a balm to his fears. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice a warm blanket. "So good." Bill felt the change within him, the final piece of the puzzle fitting into place. He was Dr. Castelli's boy now, fully and completely. The doctor's hand on his forehead was a comfort, his voice a command that Bill obeyed without question. "You're mine," the doctor repeated, his voice a gentle growl. "And you're going to be such a good boy for me." Bill's eyes fluttered shut, the world outside forgotten as he embraced his new reality. He was no longer just Bill; he was Daddy Castelli's boy, and nothing would ever be the same. The days that followed were a blur of anticipation and fear. Bill knew what was expected of him, but the thought of the final transformation was daunting. Yet, the allure of being Daddy's boy was too great to resist. He found himself shaving again, his hand steady and sure as the razor glided over his skin. The smoothness of his body was a symbol of his devotion, a testament to the man who now owned him. As he stared at his reflection, he could feel the doctor's eyes on him, guiding him, watching him. He knew he had to be perfect. The day of the appointment arrived, and Bill's nerves were stretched taut. He walked into the clinic with a sense of purpose, his chin held high despite the tremble in his legs. The nurse's eyes widened at the sight of his fully shaved body, the large ring piercing his cock. He nodded, understanding the depth of Bill's commitment. In the exam room, Dr. Castelli's eyes swept over Bill, his gaze lingering on the piercings. "You've done well," he said, his voice a warm caress. "But now, there's one last step." He held up the syringe, the needle glinting ominously in the light. "You need this, Bill. To be my proper boy." Bill felt a flicker of doubt, his stomach clenching. "What is it, Daddy?" he whispered, his voice trembling. The doctor's smile was gentle but firm. "It's an injection, Bill. To shrink your cock down to size. It's the final step in your transformation." Bill's eyes widened, his heart racing. The thought of losing the last bit of his masculinity was terrifying, but the doctor's voice was soothing, his presence all-consuming. He took a deep breath, his mind racing. He didn't want to disappoint Daddy Castelli. "But I don't think I can, Daddy," he said, his voice barely audible. For the first time since their relationship had begun, Bill felt the weight of his own will pushing back against the doctor's control. Dr. Castelli's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with anger. "You will obey," he barked, his voice a whip crack. "You are mine to shape, to mold into the perfect boy." Bill felt a tear slide down his cheek, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. He didn't want to lose his cock, didn't want to be so vulnerable. But the doctor's grip was iron, his will unyielding. "Please," Bill whispered, his voice cracking. "I'll do anything, but not that." The room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a scalpel. Dr. Castelli stared at him, his expression unreadable. Bill felt his resolve crumbling, his body betraying him as he began to cry. "Please, Daddy," he sobbed. "I'll be good, I promise." The doctor's eyes softened, his hand moving to Bill's cheek, wiping away the tears. "Alright, Bill," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "But you know you need it. You'll come back when you're ready." Bill left the clinic that day feeling both relieved and disappointed. He knew he had to come to terms with his desires, to fully embrace his submission to Daddy Castelli. But the fear of losing himself was too great to face just yet. He would return, he knew, when he was ready to become the boy the doctor wanted. Until then, he would wear his piercings with pride, a silent declaration of his devotion. The journey was far from over, but Bill had taken the first steps down a path that would forever change his life. The days until the next appointment were a blur of longing and trepidation. Each time Bill looked in the mirror, he saw the piercings that marked him as the doctor's, the smoothness of his skin a stark reminder of his submission. He touched the barbell in his cock, feeling the weight of the decision that lay before him. Yet, the fear of disappointing Daddy Castelli was a constant gnawing in the back of his mind. He knew he needed to be obedient, to be the good boy the doctor desired. The night before his appointment, Bill's nerves got the better of him. He shaved his body once more, his hand steady as the razor whispered over his skin. The cold steel was a comfort, a promise of the dominance he craved. His cock was already sensitive from the piercing, and the thought of the doctor's touch sent shivers down his spine. He knew he had to be perfect, to be worthy of Daddy's love. When he arrived at the clinic, Bill felt a mix of excitement and dread. The nurse's eyes widened when he saw him, his gaze lingering on his shaved body and the piercings that adorned his chest and cock. He led him to the exam room, where Dr. Castelli was waiting, his expression a mix of approval and hunger. "You've done well, Bill," he said, his voice a warm rumble that seemed to resonate in Bill's very bones. "Your body is almost perfect." The doctor's eyes flickered to the syringe on the counter, the needle glinting in the harsh light. Bill's stomach clenched as he saw the syringe, the reality of what was about to happen setting in. He knew he had to go through with it, that this was what he had been working towards. He took a deep breath and nodded, his voice shaky. "I'm ready, Daddy." Dr. Castelli's smile grew, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good boy," he murmured, his hand stroking Bill's cheek. "You're going to be the perfect boy for me." The doctor's hand moved to the base of Bill's cock, his thumb gently pressing the plunger. Bill felt the cold liquid fill him, a strange sense of detachment washing over him as he watched his cock begin to shrink. The pain was intense, but it was a pain that brought him closer to his Daddy, a pain that marked him as owned. His vision swam as the transformation took hold, his body betraying him in the most delicious way possible. He was no longer just Bill; he was Dr. Castelli's boy, a creature of pure submission and need. The doctor's voice was the only thing grounding him as the world grew fuzzy. "Look at you," he cooed, his hand never leaving Bill's now tiny cock. "So beautiful, so obedient." Bill felt his tears fall, not just from the pain, but from the overwhelming sense of belonging. He had given up his last piece of masculinity, but in return, he had gained a love and dominance that filled his very soul. "You're mine now," Daddy Castelli murmured, his voice the sweetest sound Bill had ever heard. "Forever and always." And with that, Bill let go of his fears, his body fully and completely under the control of the man he had come to love. The journey had been fraught with doubt and pain, but in the end, he knew he had found his home, his purpose. He was Dr. Castelli's boy, and that was all that mattered. In the days that followed, Bill experimented with his new body. He found that even though his cock remained small and unresponsive, his pleasure was more intense than ever before. He would sit in his apartment, his heart racing as he slid a dildo into his ass, imagining it was Daddy's cock claiming him. The sensation was almost too much to bear, but he pushed through it, eager to prove his worth. Each time he came, it was with a small trickle of semen that barely dampened the bed sheets. The sight of it filled him with a strange mix of sadness and pride, a reminder of his transformation. But it was the moments of solitude that truly tested Bill. He knew he was different now, that he could never go back to the life he had known. He was a submissive boy who craved the dominance of his daddy. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and desires, each one more intense than the last. He yearned for the doctor's touch, for the feeling of being owned and cared for. The thought of being with anyone else was unbearable. And so, Bill waited. He waited for the next appointment, for the next time he could see Daddy Castelli. He wore his piercings proudly, a symbol of his submission, a declaration of his love. Each day was a battle to keep his desires in check, his mind a constant playground of fantasy and need. But he knew that when the time came, he would be ready. He would be the perfect boy for his daddy, in every way possible. The appointment could not come soon enough. Bill felt like a caged animal, desperate for the release that only Daddy could give him. He had followed the doctor's orders to the letter, shaving every inch of himself, ensuring he was always smooth and bare for his master's inspection. The thought of disappointing his daddy was unbearable, so he practiced with his dildo, trying to coax his small, shrunken cock into some semblance of life. It was a futile effort, but it was all he had to cling to in the endless hours that stretched out before him. When the day of the appointment arrived, Bill felt like he might burst with anticipation. He dressed in his best, his mind racing with excitement and fear. Would Daddy be pleased with him? Would he find him worthy? As he sat in the exam room, his legs shaking, he knew that no matter what happened, he had come too far to turn back now. The door opened, and Dr. Castelli stepped in, his furry bulk filling the space. "Hello, boy," he said, his voice a warm caress. "Let's see how well you've been taking care of yourself." Bill's face flushed as he removed his clothes, his small cock already nestled between his legs, a stark contrast to the doctor's powerful presence. The doctor's eyes took in his shaved body, his piercings, and the tiny member that was all that remained of his manhood. "Very good," he said, his approval sending waves of pleasure through Bill's body. "You've learned your place." The exam was thorough, the doctor's hands moving over Bill's body with the confidence of a sculptor assessing his work. But when the doctor reached for his cock, Bill flinched. He hadn't been able to achieve an erection since the injection, no matter how much he tried. The doctor's expression grew stern. "What's wrong, boy?" Bill's voice was small as he confessed his failure, his cheeks burning with humiliation. "I can't get hard, Daddy," he whispered. "It's just a trickle when I come." Dr. Castelli's eyes narrowed, and he picked up the dildo that lay on the tray next to the bed. "Show me," he said, his voice a command that Bill couldn't resist. With trembling hands, Bill lubed up the toy and pushed it into his ass. He moaned, his body responding despite his fear. He stroked his tiny cock, trying to coax it to life, but it remained limp and unresponsive. The doctor's eyes never left his face as he worked the dildo in and out of him, his own arousal evident in the bulge of his crotch. When Bill finally came, the semen barely made it to the bed, a sad, pathetic puddle that only served to highlight his lack of manhood. The doctor's expression was unreadable as he pulled the dildo out and set it aside. "You've done well, Bill," he said finally, his voice gentle. "But we need to work on this. It's important for a good boy to be able to please his daddy." Bill felt a flicker of hope, his body still singing with the aftermath of his orgasm. Perhaps Daddy Castelli would help him fix this, would make him whole again. "Come back in a week," the doctor said, his eyes lingering on Bill's shrunken member. "We'll try a different approach." The week dragged on, Bill's thoughts consumed by his inadequacy. He avoided his friends, unable to face their questions about his new look, his new self. Each night was a battle, his body aching for the doctor's touch, for the dominance that had become his lifeblood. When the day of the next appointment finally arrived, Bill was a mess of nerves and need. He dressed in the clothes that Daddy had picked out for him, a tight shirt that emphasized his new smoothness, and shorts that left little to the imagination. In the exam room, the doctor was waiting, his expression expectant. Bill stepped closer, his heart racing. "Please, Daddy," he whispered. "Make me whole again." Dr. Castelli's smile was slow, a predator eyeing its prey. "I'll do what I can," he said, his voice a warm rumble that sent shivers down Bill's spine. "But you must remember, you are mine. Your body, your pleasure, your pain, all of it belongs to me." Bill nodded, his eyes never leaving the doctor's. He knew it was true. He was nothing without Daddy Castelli's guidance. The doctor handed Bill a small plastic bag. Inside were a pair of shorts and a tank top, both far too tight for Bill's stocky frame. "Put these on," he instructed. "And make sure everyone can see what's yours." Bill's cheeks burned as he pulled on the clothing, the fabric clinging to his now-smooth skin. The shorts were so short that his pierced cock was almost visible, and the tank top left little to the imagination. The doctor nodded in approval. "Good boy," he murmured, his eyes lingering on Bill's bare chest. "Now, I want you to visit the local gay bear sauna. It's a place where hairy men like you used to feel at home." The sauna was a bastion of masculinity, a place where Bill had once reveled in his fur. Now, as he stepped inside, his bare skin feeling the heat, he felt like an outsider. The other bears stared at him, their shock and disbelief plain on their faces. Marcus was there, lounging on a bench, his furry chest on full display. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw Bill, his deep belly laugh echoing through the steamy room. "What the fuck happened to you, man?" he jeered. "You look like a plucked chicken!" Bill's humiliation was complete, but he knew he had to endure it. He found a spot in the corner, his legs spread and arms behind his head as Daddy Castelli had instructed. The piercing on his cock was a constant reminder of his submission, the barbell glinting in the dim light. The stares of the other men in the sauna made him feel like a specimen on display, a freak of nature. They whispered to each other, pointing at his shaved body and the piercing that marked him as property. Bill's cheeks burned, but he remained still, his eyes fixed on the tiles in front of him. It was then that Marcus approached, a cruel smile playing on his lips. He leaned in, his fur brushing against Bill's bare skin. "What's this?" he sneered, reaching for the ring that pierced Bill's shrunken member. Bill's heart raced as Marcus's fingers closed around it, giving it a gentle tug. The pain was exquisite, a reminder of his new place in the world. "You really are pathetic," Marcus said, his voice dripping with scorn. "Let me show everyone how much of a good boy you are." And with that, he yanked the ring hard, forcing Bill's body to respond. The orgasm was weak, a mere trickle of semen that barely left his body. The room grew silent, the only sound the dribble of fluid hitting the floor. Bill felt the eyes of every man in the room on him, their contempt palpable. But amidst the humiliation, there was a spark of something else -- pride. He had done as Daddy had told him, endured the embarrassment and the pain. He was a good boy, a boy who had given up everything to be owned by a man who knew exactly what he needed. The journey home was a blur of shame and arousal. His cock remained limp, a sad shadow of what it once was, but in his mind, Bill was replaying the doctor's touch, the sound of his voice. He knew that Daddy Castelli had sent him to the sauna to test him, to push him further into his new role. And he had passed the test, hadn't he? He had taken it all, the stares, the laughter, the pain. He was a submissive boy now who lived for the pleasure and dominance of his daddy. The next day, Bill found himself craving more. He needed to be pushed further, to prove himself to Daddy Castelli. He decided to visit a leather shop, his eyes drawn to the racks of harnesses and collars. The clerk, a burly man with a pierced lip, looked at him strangely as he picked out a collar that matched his new look. "You're not usually into this kind of thing," he said, his voice low. Bill felt a thrill of excitement as he replied, "Daddy's making some changes." The collar was snug, the leather warm and comforting around his neck. He wore it proudly, the metal tag at the front gleaming with the doctor's name. It was a declaration of his submission, a symbol of his love. The thought of Daddy Castelli's hands on him, his voice in his ear, was all he could think about. He knew he had to be the best boy he could be, to make Daddy proud. The next appointment couldn't come soon enough. Bill was a mess of nerves and desire, his body begging for the doctor's touch. When he walked into the exam room, he was met with a smile that sent his heart racing. "Good boy," Dr. Castelli said, his eyes raking over Bill's new collar. "You're really embracing your role, aren't you?" Bill nodded, his voice a whimper. "I want to be the best boy for you, Daddy." The doctor's smile grew, his eyes dark with lust. "And you will be," he murmured, his hand reaching for the collar. "You'll be the best little slut for me."

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Date: Thu, 16 May 2024 17:25:34 +0200 From: fatboy71@gmx.com Subject: Fatboy71 - 5 This story is total fantasy, regrettably, set in a parallel universe without STDs or homophobic violence. Please feel free to contact me if you have any ideas or suggestions as to how you would like me to continue the story! fatboy71@gmx.com ***** Fatboy71 -- 5 Last time; Jonny learned how to oil Chrissy before bed... *** After a very late Friday night/Saturday morning, Jonny woke up in a massive bed between the hard, ripped body of Master Andrew, and the fascinatingly soft, oily, dough-like body of Chrissy. Chrissy had got his fuck after all, once the master had recovered from Jonny's blow job. Jonny was fascinated by the way Chrissy's flab undulated as Master Andrew pounded into him. The waterbed made him feel slightly nauseous until the action ceased and they were all sleeping. At around 11am, Chrissy started to stir. "Did you sleep well, dear?" he enquired. Stifling a yawn, Jonny nodded, "I have to pee and, well, etc..." Chrissy nodded, "well, you know where to go. Clean yourself out again afterwards. I'm going to start the master's coffee and our breakfast. Go back to bed and I'll bring you both coffee when it's ready!" When Jonny got back to the bedroom, Master Andrew was sitting up against the headboard. "Can I have my clothes back, please? I'm ready to go back home now." "Not yet JJ, I want to talk to you, come here and snuggle in..." Reluctantly, Jonny did as he was told. "Now, Jonny, your new life begins here. Tell me, how did you enjoy yourself last night? Be honest with me, I will know if you're telling me porkies!" "Well, Sir. I don't really know where to start. I'm not a big eater, but I found it quite easy last night, once I got my head round it. I'm not sure that I want to eat like Chrissy does. I think I would hate being that fat, but I really did enjoy oiling him up for you..." As Jonny's voice drifted away, Master Andrew took the opportunity to speak. "Thanks for your honesty Jonny. Let me tell you how I see it. Firstly, I know if you let your appetite take charge, you will wonder why you left it so long. Secondly, Chrissy wants you to move in with us, as do I. To that end, I have organised a company to empty your flat. You will have a room here, but I don't think you'll want to spend much time in it. Finally, I need a new personal assistant at work, so I have arranged for you to be transferred to my office, effective from Monday morning. Now, let's go and see what Chrissy has conjured up for breakfast. Actually, before that, weigh yourself in the corner there!" He pointed at a digital scale with a separate display on the wall. "Hmm, 126 pounds... We'll soon double that! Oh, by the way, the other thing is that you WILL get fat living here. I require it." Over breakfast, Mr Wilson outlined the plan for the rest of the afternoon. Jonny would be taken to the hair removal clinic. The first of 4 weekly appointments, and Chrissy would tidy the kitchen and make a start on the dinner. Breakfast had been magnificent, bacon and sausage by the pound, black pudding, haggis, home made hash browns (with actual hash in them! "to stimulate your appetite, dear!" Chrissy said) and a vat of rich, creamy scrambled eggs. Gratefully, Jonny noted that there were no baked beans! He indulged heartily in breakfast, assuming that there would be no lunch... Jonny and his master stepped out onto the busy street from Master Andrew's main door flat in Chelsea and with an ear piercing wolf whistle, Master Andrew obtained a cab. "Old Compton Street, please, driver." When they arrived, Jonny realised that he was expected to pay. He presented his phone to the proffered terminal, and they left the cab. Master Andrew led the way to a restaurant. "Oh, I'm not ready for lunch," Jonny protested "Nonsense, it's already booked. C'mon!" Jonny followed Master Andrew into the restaurant. The staff obviously knew him, and his predilection for turning young twinks into enormous hogs! Overly familiar, the waiter asked, "this the next one then, Andrew?" Scowling, Master Andrew spat out, "shut your fat face and bring the order, pig!" Andrew had obviously pre-ordered because the lunch arrived almost instantly. Jonny had a HUGE bowl of Chicken Alfredo accompanied by a thick strawberry milk shake, and his Sir had a chicken salad with a bottle of still water. Once he had eaten his chicken noodles, the biggest ice cream sundae Jonny had ever seen appeared. Full of nuts and marshmallows, and enrobed with rich, dark chocolate and butterscotch sauces. By this time, Chrissy's breakfast hash browns had kicked in, and Jonny devoured the entire thing, releasing an almighty belch as he placed his spoon back in the empty vessel. Master Andrew sat back in his seat, smirking as he said, "Well done! You're a fatboi in the making..." Jonny smiled and replied, "Yes, Sir, I think I am, aren't I! The waiters uniforms are,,, interesting!" Andrew laughed out loud. "Yes, I chose them myself. I should explain a little -- I have a small share in this place, 25% or so, enough that they listen to my suggestions. I didn't choose the name, but "Porkie's" drew my attention, and I asked if I could invest. They agreed and I suggested the pink crop tops with the company logo on them, and the silver hotpants. None of the waiters are any less than 20 stone (280lbs) or any taller than 5' 7". There are no waitresses, just fat boys! Do you like what you see?" "Very, very much, Sir! I think I have that uniform, without the logos, in my wardrobe!" "Right, fatboi to be, let's go and get you lasered!" To be continued I'm sorry for the delay between the chapters, I picked up covid and I'm just getting back to normal now! I will try and be more productive over the summer! Gx Instead of stuffing your fat face with donuts, consider donating the cost to Nifty. This is a valuable resource! https://donate.nifty.org/

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Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2024 16:57:51 +0200 From: GRAEME PATERSON Subject: Fatboy71 - 2 This story is total fantasy, regrettably, set in a parallel universe without STDs or homophobic violence. Please feel free to contact me if you have any ideas or suggestions as to how you would like me to continue the story! Fatboy71@gmx.com Fatboy71 -- 2 When we left Jon last, he was on a night out in Soho, and he has just met up, unfortunately for him, with the head of the finance group from his work with the Civil Service. He doesn't like this man... So. Jonny, this is a surprise! What brings a twink like you to the Kings Arms? As if I didn't already know -- ha! You like fatties like this tub of lard, don't you? With that, he grabbed his friend's substantial gut and gave it a shake. The hem of his shirt rolled up, leaving a large portion of his belly on display. He made no effort to pul the shirt down again. There's no point in denying it -- we've seen your kink profiles! Skinnyboi2000. You really should be more careful about posting your plans for the evening on grommr and recon! Whether you want to or not, you ARE coming home with us, Jonny. NOW, you little slut -- move that pretty little ass!!! With that, he slapped Jon's butt. In the cab, Jon tried to reason with his "captor." Mr Wilson, please can you call me Jon, or at least Jonathan? I detest Jonny -- I had a teacher at (George) Heriot's who called me that. His name was Wilson as well, curiously enough... Mr. Wilson smirked. Yes, I know. He is my brother. He spotted you as a little faggot in your first year at school. No, I will continue with Jonny. It debases you, just like I call Christopher here, Chrissy! At that, the cab pulled up outside a McDonald's. Right, boys, time to eat! Jonny said, "I'm not hungry, Mr Wilson." I don't care, skinnyboi2000! I want you to eat, so eat you will! Do you think Chrissy got to that size by just eating when he wanted? No! He ate what and when I told him. However, it's only the first night, so I'll go easy on you! By the way, you can call me Master from now on, no exceptions. Pay the driver, Chrissy. Once in the restaurant, Master Andrew went straight to the counter and ordered six supersized meals with milkshakes. He had a quiet word with the server and sat down. In due course, the meals were delivered. The server said, "right, two for the faggot, and four for the pig!" As Jonny's jaw dropped, Chrissy spoke for the first time. His voice was high-pitched and ridiculously camp for a man his size. "Jonny, dear, just get fired in and don't think about it. You will be amazed how much you can fit in your stomach if you keep shovelling! He won't let you leave until you have finished everything..." With that, he grabbed his first portion of fries and tipped them into his waiting mouth. Jonny took the advice on board and followed by example. Trying to keep up with Chrissy was admirable but unsuccessful! He managed to get it all in, though, and let rip an enormously loud belch. Completely stuffed and bloated, Jonny's abs had disappeared. Master Andrew sat back with a satisfied grin. Chrissy told Jonny to rub his tummy very gently to aid his digestion. He did and was pleasantly surprised to find that it worked, although it released another monster burp. Master Andrew led them out, and Jon found the cool night air relaxing. A sharp wolf whistle broke his reverie, and a black cab appeared. Master gave the address, and they headed for home. Again, Chrissy paid after being instructed to do so. When they got inside, Chrissy stripped to naked, revealing a massive fupa, which practically enveloped what had once been a respectable 8 inch cock. Jonny followed Chrissy's lead and stripped his clothes, too. Folding them neatly, he placed them in a pile on the floor, with his shoes on the top. From his armchair, Master beckoned his new boi to stand in front of him. Wordlessly, he directed Jonny to turn around. He grabbed Jonny's cock and weighing it in his hand, opened a drawer beside him and pulled out a silicon cage. It happened so quickly that Jonny was unaware of what had occurred. To add to the indignity, it was a very girly pink. "Knees." As he knelt, Jon felt a heavy, cold sensation round his neck, followed by the unmistakable click of a large padlock. "Chrissy, get yourself and the boi some ice cream. Same thing as Maccy D's!" Jonny was slightly puzzled by this until Chrissy came back with six pints of Ben & Jerry's. Sitting on the floor and gesturing to Jonny to do the same, he passed over two cartons to him, with a spoon. Keeping four for himself, he said, "it gets easier as it softens. You can start to drink it!" He winked and tore open the first container. It was then that Jonny noticed that Chrissy had a similar chain round his much fatter neck. Jon decided that he really needed to try and get some alone time with his fat friend... ***** To be continued Instead of stuffing your fat face with donuts, consider donating the cost to Nifty. This is a valuable resource! https://donate.nifty.org/

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Date: Wed, 5 Jun 2024 00:41:41 +0200 From: GRAEME PATERSON Subject: Fatboy71 - 6 This story is total fantasy, regrettably, set in a parallel universe without STDs or homophobic violence. Please feel free to contact me if you have any ideas or suggestions as to how you would like me to continue the story! fatboy71@gmx.com ***** Fatboy71 -- 6 Last time; Jonny learned the benefits of home-made hashish brownies... *** Three months on... Jonny has settled into his new life with Chrissy and Master Andrew. He has gained a little over 30lbs in the time he has been under their influence, taking his weight up to around 157lbs. He is only 5' 9" so he's starting to get a little bit fat, but nowhere near overweight -- yet! On nights out with his new "family" though, he's still wearing the gold shorts and polo shirt, despite the fact that they cling tightly to his fuller figure. Little does he know that he'll be wearing them until they burst! (That's a story for another day!) Jonny's new routine for workdays is pretty much as follows: get up at 7am, have a piss and a dump, go for an enormous cooked breakfast courtesy of Chrissy. Around 8, it's time to shower his hairless body and dress for the office. (Ties are worn loose until the last minute and tightened just enough to not get into trouble!) Master Andrew has a flat in Whitehall, so Dover House is only 5 minutes walk away. They walk together, although Jonny is always 2 paces behind. Appetite stimulants have Jonny craving food by 10am, so there's a standing order for a dozen assorted donuts and the largest caramel latte that the local coffee shop does, to be delivered by no later than 10.15am! Lunch is at 12noon, usually catered if there's a meeting, or sometimes in a restaurant. In dire emergencies, the staff canteen has to do... Around 2pm, there's a delivery from the patisserie round the corner along with a milkshake of some flavour. That keeps J going until 5pm, when The Boss calls time on the day's business. They usually stop at a pub on the way home for a couple of pints and a portion of chips each (Sir has no more than half a dozen, and Jonny gets the rest!), then they go home. Chrissy will either have cooked dinner, or organised takeaway. Weekends are a very different kettle of fish! Kept naked, Jonny eats from a pig's trough, a pig tail butt plug shoved in his increasingly accommodating ass. Once Master Andrew is satisfied, he dresses his bois in their "going out" stainless steel collars, engraved with The Master's name and number, and matching short shorts, with their bare bellies and nipple rings on show. One Saturday towards the end of June, Master Andrew got the boys ready and had them dressed in sequined rainbow shorts, their bare bodies glistening with sun protection oil. The Master himself was dressed, if you could call it that, in his full body harness, with studded codpiece and black cowboy boots. As usual, a black cab appeared, out of nowhere. "Park Lane, please!" Chrissy piped up, "Sir, are we going to Pride?!" Andrew just raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Maybe..." (Author's note: Regrettably, I have never been to London Pride, so what follows is entirely my imagination!) As they marched from Hyde Park Corner towards Trafalgar Square, Jonny watched with envy as his friend's belly bounced and undulated with each step. Master Andrew walked between his two boys and held them by the hand. When they were within sight of Nelson's Column, Chrissy started to protest, "Master, please can we stop here? I'm famished!" He winked at Jonny and said, "Okay, Chrissy, you've probably waddled far enough -- we don't want you losing any weight!" Chrissy grimaced at `waddled' but bit his tongue. Instead, he issued a directive. "Jonny, dear, be a love and grab us a couple of pizzas and some beers, please? I'm exhausted!" As they were eating, half a dozen assorted twinks appeared and started making fun of them, Chrissy, in particular, grunting and oinking like pigs. "ignore them, Jonny, dear! They're just jealous of us eating what we want, when we want!" The tallest and skinniest of them laughed outrageously. "I can eat like that now! You'll need a trough soon!" He laughed again. Jonny went to Chrissy's side of the table and started running his hands over his fat friend's body. "I cannot wait until I am this big, or even bigger and fatter. You have no idea... Chrissy, do you want some ice cream and donuts? I do!" The twinks left them, laughing and oinking. Master Andrew observed, "they'll get fat and they won't even notice. Just you wait and see!" *** To be continued. Instead of stuffing your fat face with donuts, consider donating the cost to Nifty. This is a valuable resource! https://donate.nifty.org/

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/fatboy71/fatboy71-1

Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2024 15:55:05 +0200 From: GRAEME PATERSON Subject: Fatboy71 - 1 This story is total fantasy, regrettably, set in a parallel universe without STDs or homophobic violence. Please feel free to contact me if you have any ideas or suggestions as to how you would like me to continue the story! Fatboy71@gmx.com *** Fatboy71 - 1 I didn't used to be a fat slave pig. I was a rising star in the Scottish Office, based in Dover House in London. Then I downloaded recon x and grommr. That was the most foolhardy thing I ever did. It was the beginning of the end of my career. As Captain Mainwaring would have said, "stupid boy!" However, I've always had an eye for the chunkier boys on my nights out in Soho! It was on one of those nights out that I met the men around whom my world would soon revolve... One Saturday night, I was heading out to The Kings Arms on Poland Street in Soho. I dressed like the tart I am -- very, very short gold lamé shorts and matching polo shirt that didn't quite meet the waistband of my shorts, thus revealing a glimpse of my six-pack, and a pair of shiny gold tennis shoes. My gold rubber jacket completed the ensemble. On arrival at the KA, I put my jacket into the cloakroom, then headed to the bar and got myself a white wine spritzer -- I like to keep my wits about me -- and my weight down. How soon life changes...! I sashayed over to a wall where I could see the door and watch for the chubby bears coming in. I suppose I should tell you a little about me. I'm 24 years old, naturally platinum blond, 5' 9", and 125 lbs -- just above underweight for my height. Oh, and my name is Jonathan, but I prefer Jon. NEVER Jonny, I HATE IT! A few guys came in, but no one caught my eye. I was about to collect my jacket and head across town to Heaven when a gorgeous couple came in. Both were dressed in rubber, and both were taller than I (not difficult!). The fat one was wearing a pair of shorts in shiny black rubber and a white rubber t-shirt. He looked to be about 5 foot 11. The thin one was easily 6 foot 3 or 4, and he had a pair of motorcycle rubbers on. I thought that I recognised him, but I wasn't certain. He must have known me, though, because he pointed at me and pushed his friend in my direction. When they got closer, I realised that I DID know him. He is the Head of the Finance Group at Dover House. Shit!!! As they approached me, I could see an evil smirk on his face. Hello there, Jonny... To Be Continued Instead of stuffing your fat face with donuts, consider donating the cost to Nifty. This is a valuable resource! https://donate.nifty.org/

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/fatboy71/fatboy71-3

Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2024 12:42:56 +0200 From: GRAEME PATERSON Subject: Fatboy71 - 3 This story is total fantasy, regrettably, set in a parallel universe without STDs or homophobic violence. Please feel free to contact me if you have any ideas or suggestions as to how you would like me to continue the story! Fatboy71@gmx.com ***** Fatboy71 -- 3 Last time; So, Jonny has been collared and caged (lucky boy!) by Master Andrew, and he's been forced to eat two supersized meals at McDonald's, and stripped naked, with advice and encouragement from his new friend Chris, he has managed to stuff two pints of ice cream into his swollen and distended stomach. "Chrissy, take Jonny boi to the bathroom and clean him up for me. " Finally, Jon thought, I'll get to the bottom of this mess... "Right, dear, you heard the Master, come with me!" As Jon trotted behind Chris, he was mesmerised by the way the large man's fat wobbled and swayed as he minced along. When they got to the bathroom, Jonny saw the largest walk-in rainfall shower he'd ever seen. Noting his amazement, Chrissy spoke, "it's designed for several fat men at once. You'll see, those nights are catered - there's so much food... Anyway dear, let's get you cleaned out!" He grabbed the douche attachment from the wall, "come here, dear, and stand over this big drain." "Oh, I did that before I left the flat!" "Nevertheless, dear, I have my instructions and we have to do what we're told -- trust me dear, you don't want to find out the hard way... If you're still running clear, all well and good. If you're not, then it'll be just as well we checked!" With that, he used the douche wand to point at the drain. Reluctantly, Jonny did as he was told. "Chris, what is happening to me, please?" "It's not really for me to say, but I looked a bit like you when Master Andrew took me under his control. I didn't want it at first, but now I love my life!" "But why would you want to be so fa.., big?" "It's okay, lovey, you can call me fat, it's what I am, after all! It was forced on me, but I'm his first project, I didn't have anyone to help me get my head around it. You have me, and I will help you as best I can. To answer your question though, I did not want to be fat. I thought that I would get more sex as a twink, like you. Now, I get fucked three or four days each week! Master Andrew organises it, and keeps ten percent. That's what I used to pay for the taxis earlier. He humiliates me in public -- he thinks -- but I love it! I don't know what he has planned for you, but I dare say that we will find out!" To be continued Instead of stuffing your fat face with donuts, consider donating the cost to Nifty. This is a valuable resource! https://donate.nifty.org/

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/fatboy71/fatboy71-4

Date: Sat, 20 Apr 2024 17:34:50 +0200 From: GRAEME PATERSON Subject: Fatboy71 - 4 This story is total fantasy, regrettably, set in a parallel universe without STDs or homophobic violence. Please feel free to contact me if you have any ideas or suggestions as to how you would like me to continue the story! Fatboy71@gmx.com ***** Fatboy71 -- 4 Last time; Jon was taken to the bathroom by Chris and is finding out what his future will probably hold... *** Now that he had the chance to look at Chrissy more closely, Jonny realised that he had absolutely no body hair, not even in his groin. "Chris, you have no hair, not even down below..." "nah, it was all lasered away. It's fine, it makes moisturising so much easier! I'll ask the Master to let you do me tonight. Then you'll see how erotic being so fat is... Good, you're running clear again -- just as well we checked, dear! Let's go back to Master Andrew." Again, Jon was fascinated with the movement of Chrissy's flesh as he followed him along the corridor. They went back into the grand sitting room where their master was waiting for them. "We're both clean now, Master Andrew. I was wondering if you would permit Jonny to apply my moisturiser tonight, once you have finished with him, please?" "Good idea, fatso, but I'm going nowhere near him until he's been lasered and he's put on at least fifty pounds! No, he can watch me breeding you, and then apply the oil!" "Very good, Sir, thank you. C'mon, dear, you can help me get into position!" Chrissy led his protégé through to a room which turned out to be a fully functioning "dungeon". "WOW!" was all Jonny could manage. "Yes, and it's fully soundproofed, dear, so no matter how much you scream or shout, no-one will come to your aid!" Whilst they had been talking, Chrissy had got up onto a padded bench with a set of stocks at the head. "Right, come on dear, help me into this contraption, please? Make sure to shoot the bolts!" No sooner than Jonny had locked his friend in the stocks, when the door burst open and in strode Master Andrew, divested of his rubber suit and clad in a leather chest harness. "boi! Come and learn your master's scent and taste. Get me good and wet for fucking the pig!" Jonny was on his knees in front of Master Andrew before he had finished speaking. He knew the drill from other men he had gone down on. Lean in close, but don't touch, then a deep breath in through your nose and, "Master Andrew, Sir, may this lowly faggot pig slave be permitted to learn its new master's scent and taste by worshipping his magnificent cock and helping prepare it for fucking fat pig Chrissy, please?!" "Granted, faggot. Get to work!" Now, what none of us know yet is that Jonny has been sucking cock for around ten years -- the advantages of a private education! He started with his form tutor, Mr Wilson -- Master Andrew's brother -- as an alternative to 3 hours of detention. He was a natural and word soon spread amongst the male staff that Jennings would give you an awesome blow job instead of taking his punishment... So. Taking another deep breath, Jonny smelt his master's taint and scrotum, then drew his tongue ever so gently and slowly back up to the uncut head, repeating the action six or seven times. Licking the head tenderly, like a lollipop, Jon slipped his tongue under the foreskin, just enough to tickle the jap's eye... "Uunnngghhh" came from above. "What's wrong, Master? Would you like me to stop?" Jonny asked, innocently. "Geez no! My brother was right, you're a star! Carry on!" Jonny took a big breath and relaxing his throat, swallowed all nine inches to the root, burying his nose in his master's neatly trimmed pubic hair. Using his throat, he massaged the bulbous head and tickled the sensitive underside of the penis with his tongue. "SHIT!!! You made me cum, boi! I should belt your arse for that, but OHH. MY. DAYS! You're GOOD! Chrissy, you need lessons from this little slut! I can't fuck you now. Jonny, release his fat ass and you can teach him how to oil you up..." The slaves went to a bedroom. Chrissy told Jonny, "I should be livid with you, dear, for depriving me of my fuck, but I have NEVER seen him that elated by a bloody blow job! He's right, you need to give me lessons... Anyway, I need to give YOU lessons in moisturising me. Get hold of that bottle of baby oil and come here. You can start with my shoulders. I like my front done last!" With that pronouncement, Chrissy lay face down on the rubber sheeted bed. Jonny tentatively poured some oil into the palm of his left hand and rubbed his hands together to warm the oil. He didn't fancy the wrath of a slightly inconvenienced homosexual for putting cold baby oil on his back! Jonny started with Chrissy's shoulders, working out from the middle of his back. Surprised by the soft, dough-like consistency, he felt the blood rushing to his groin, and his cock trying to get hard in its prison. As he worked down the 300lb body he was straddling, Jonny found himself at Chrissy's bum. Gingerly, he parted the huge mounds of flesh and took a sniff. Clean, with just a hint of musk. He rolled his tongue into a point, and delicately ran it over the rosebud. There was a sharp gasp from Chrissy, then, "Ooh! Naughty!" "Am I not allowed to do that?" Jonny asked, with a touch of concern in his voice. "Not to me, no. You will be allowed to rim the Master though. Finish my bum, then I'll turn over. Start with my legs and work your way up." Jon did as instructed, working his way from heel to rump, first on the left, and then the right. Unsure, he asked, "what about your groin?" "Leave that, dearie, I'll show you once we're finished." Jonny continued, massaging the oil into Chrissy, his enormous body squishy and yielding under Jonny's tender manipulations. Chrissy's belly fat rippled and undulated as Jonny pushed the baby oil into his skin. On he went, covering his fat friend in oil, rubbing it into Chrissy's sides, the massive slabs of lard that had formed under his arms, that eventually became his chest. "Ooh, yeah, baby! Work those titties! Make me lactate... Yeah, oohh yeesss!" Jonny started kissing the huge nipples, suddenly, without warning, he bit down. "OHH! MARY, MOTHER OF THE SWEET BABY JESUS!!! Bite the other one!" Hearing all the noise, Master Andrew stuck his head round the door, "everything okay boiz?" "Yes Master, ohh yes! This one has to stay!" "I'm already working on that fatso, relax! Now, go and show faggot where the bedtime shakes are. Two for him, four for you! G'night!" To be continued Instead of stuffing your fat face with donuts, consider donating the cost to Nifty. This is a valuable resource! https://donate.nifty.org/

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/cheater-gets-bred/

Nifty Archive: cheater-gets-bred ™ Have a Nifty Day nifty gay authoritarian cheater-gets-bred SizeDateFilename 7K Dec 8 19:22 cheater-gets-bred-2 8K Dec 1 15:35 cheater-gets-bred-1

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/picked-up-a-hitcher/picked-up-a-hitcher-24

Date: Sun, 14 May 2023 18:53:41 +0000 (UTC) From: Clay Bottom Subject: picked-up-a-hitcher-Chapter 24 Picked Up a Hitcher 24 Disclaimer: The following contains explicit scenes of male sex and a variety of consensual activities. This story may not be copied or posted to any other websites without explicit permission from the author. All characters depicted are above 18 years of age. If any of this content is offensive to you or illegal to access in your geography, please do not proceed. This is a work of fiction and fantasy involving dangerous situations and unsafe sex meant to be entertaining but not copied in real life. Donate: Please donate to Nifty. This site gives writers and readers a free uncensored place to share our work and enjoy each other's imagination. Most of us get hours of great entertainment here and we want it to stay around. Use this kink I mean link https://donate.nifty.org/ Story: After my doggie show at Ja's apartment, Master Ricky did what he said and fucked my ass using the cum loads in my ass for lube. A good fraction of it was from King the giant rottweiler. Master Ricky: "The men wore your pussy out. So fucking wet and loose. I guess taking a big dog knot stretched you out good. Too good. You're too loose to be a good fuck. Show me your toys. A horny cumdump like you must have great pussy toys for when a real man is not willing to fuck your hungry hole." I did have toys, but not a big collection like Master Ricky was thinking. A plastic dick is a poor substitute for a real man's dick. I need to please a man and make him cum, and I can't do that with a dildo, but I showed him my three butt toys. A six-inch thin vibrator, an average 6" dildo, and a 3" bullet-shaped butt plug. Master Ricky: "Boy, that is pathetic. You will do better. A faggot slave should have toys for his master to use on him when he wants to play with a gash like you. I'll send you a list of supplies to buy that I can use to make bondage equipment and butt toys for you. Custom-made is what I'll use on you. In the meantime, I think I'll buy you a present. Something special so you know what kind of pussy toys I'll make for you. I know just what will make you moan like the whore you are, a fantasy 8" dog dildo with a big knot at the end that you can pop in and out of your pussy lips." I must have made a face because Master Ricky was not pleased. Master Ricky: "YOU DON'T Like my idea! I offered you a gift. UNGRATEFUL BITCH!. If a dog toy isn't good enough for you, I'll buy you a 9-inch dragon dildo. A monster with ridges as thick as your thumb and a knot as thick as your fist. You will love it or I'll create something truly cruel to make your pussy bleed like a virgin hole." FUCK he scares me when he is like this. As good as he has been to me, I've had a taste of his cruel nature, and I don't ever want to see more. I don't care what I have to do, I'll find a way to love whatever Master Ricky puts in me. Master Ricky stirred the cum in my sore hole with my dildo till he forced a whimper out of me. I made a lot more noise when he replaced the dildo with his thicker longer cock. He churned the cum in me like a jackhammer then rotated his hips to stretch my hurting ass ring even more. My pussy lips hurt, but he was hitting all the right spots inside me too. Fuck, it hurt, but I needed to cum and he was pushing me to the edge. The more noise I made, the more verbal he got as we fed off each other. Master Ricky: "Cum hungry slut. Can't get enough? Five BBCs and a rottweiler aren't enough to fill your greedy cunt. Am I hurting you? Fuck yea, I am, and you are fucking begging for my load. You need me inside you even when I give you pain. Got to have my nut? Your hole is a loose sloppy gash. You've been fucked so hard, you can't even tighten up enough to make me cum. I should just pull out, beat your ass, and beat my meat to get off. Is that what you want? Tell me bitch what do you want?" Me: "Master No! Don't pull out! I want to make you cum. Master, sorry I am so worn out and loose. Master, I'll make my cunt tight again soon, just please don't pull out. MASTER, DP me. Fucking stuff my hole with a dildo to make it tight enough to fuck." Master Ricky: "Boy, that will hurt like hell. Might even rip you. Once I start, nothing will make me stop till I cum in your ass. Is that what you want? Me: " Master PLEASE!" Even a cumdump's hole has limits. This hurt as bad as the gang rape in the park had, but I was sober now with nothing to dull the pain. To say the least, Master Ricky was not slow and gentle. He packed my hole with both my dildos then slammed his own longer and thicker dick into me balls deep. He pulled all the way out and then slammed back in over and over. I wanted to be good, but I couldn't. I begged him to stop and he ignored me. I begged him to slow down and I struggled to move off him. He gripped both my wrists and lulled my ass back onto his thick meat. Master Ricky is a cock master. Even with my struggle, he still it all the right places inside me. What some fags say about "hurting good" is a load of crap, but he did make me cum while he tortured my hole with his dick and my dildos. My overstretched muscles contracted as I came, and my contractions were pure pleasure to my Master and pain to me. I think I blacked out for a few seconds then I felt Master Ricky cumming in me, He fucking roared. Master Ricky: "GOOD FUCKING BOY!" That was pleasure to my ears. My pussy was gapping and Master Ricky's cum ran out of me after he pulled his dick and the fake dicks out of me. I worried as I collapsed into sleep if my pussy would ever recover. The next morning, I was pleasantly surprised that my hole was tight again as I finger fucked myself in the shower. As I promised Master, I google ways to get tighter and found exercises I could do to make my pelvic floor muscles stronger. I started that day, working my cunt muscles as I sat at my desk. Soon the pussy exercises were an automatic habit. I didn't ever want to be too loose for Master Ricky to fuck. I had a great three months at work and outside work while Mark was gone to rehab. I served Master Morgan at work and Master Ricky at home. Luckiest faggot slave alive with two good Masters. I was their good boy and loved it even when it hurt. Morgan had his poker parties almost every week, and the party always ended in his playroom. Masters Morgan and Ricky and their friends played hard and rough. The other slave boys and I always got pain and humiliation, but sometimes we were allowed to cum too. Master Morgan's playroom was equipped almost like a movie set with cameras and lights. He had all the usual and best BDSM and SM gear, and Master Ricky often brought his custom bondage and torture creations too. The men invited to Master Morgan's parties were never disappointed with the sex slaves or the experience. I always went with a mixture of excitement and fear. I wanted desperately to please Master Ricky and Morgan, but I'm not a pain pig or a raunch pig, so I feared Master Ricky too. Still, I was more satisfied than I had ever been in my life. All good things come to an end. Mark came back from rehab looking like a Greek god. He had always been handsome, tall, and well-built, but now he was tan and ripped too. He must have spent all of his time in rehab in the gym. He had fucked up his life big time, and he came out of it looking like an action hero and his job was waiting for him. It must be fucking great to be him. Seeing him tied my gut in knots. He still had a hold on me somehow. He would never be out of my head. My body responded too. What faggot wouldn't? My dicklet struggled in its cage when I saw him again. Mark walked right past me without a word. In fact, he ignored me completely for two weeks. It was kind of a relief and cruel too. We were best friends for years before I was his slave, so being ghosted hurt. When he was finally forced to interact with me on a major project, he acted like we were strangers, like we were nothing. Being used as his urinal and ass wipe wasn't as cruel as being treated like nothing. I dealt with it, and Mark thrived for the next two months. Addictions are hard to beat. It looked like rehab had worked, and Mark had beaten his addictions. I knew something was up when Master Ricky told me we were going to Master Morgan's place for a game, and Mark would be there. Gambling was one of Mark's problems, and he had not been to the poker games for months. Another odd thing, the usual men were there, Mac, Red, Scott, and Vincent, but not any of the boy slaves. Usually, I'd be playing with another slave or servicing a man, but there were no slaves, and no man was interested in my service. I found a corner and tried to be invisible while everyone seemed to be waiting for something. Mark looked like shit when he came in. Sure he was handsome and still had the body of a bodybuilder, but his face was puffy and he had bags and dark circles under his eyes. His eyes were open too wide somehow. He was high again. It was obvious. Master Ricky: "I stopped by your apartment and picked up something you forgot." Master Ricky presented a small carry-on bag. Mark went ballistic and lunged for Master Ricky. The Men were ready and he was forced into a chair and held down. Mark could easily have taken down one or two of the guys, but not all of them. Mark: "YOU broke into my place!" Give me that." Master Ricky: "No you invited me in, and I noticed dangerous items and was forced to do a thorough search. I have impeccable witnesses to prove it. Mark: "Bullshit! Master Ricky: "Prove it. Who will believe a relapsed junkie? Mark winced at the word "junkie" Master Morgan: "Months of extremely expensive rehab failed, now it's time for some tough love. You know what kind of love I give. We'll break your addictions as we break you. In case you haven't figured it out. This is an intervention, not a poker party." Mark spewed obscenities and threats, but he was held down and gagged with difficulty. I think I was the only one afraid of Mark at that moment.. Master Ricky: "You have two choices, you can submit and willingly sign a power of attorney and conservatorship papers, and Morgan and I will own you, body and mind, till your debts are paid and you are cured, or I take you down to 201 Poplar Ave and book you on felony possession with intent to distribute. Remember what I told the young virgin jock you? You helped us rape him? Everything I told him goes double for you. I'll pull in favors to make sure you never get bail. I'll get my guard buddies to move you around the country jail so all the cell blocks get a chance to enjoy your beautiful muscled ass. You put in countless hours of exercise to get that perfect body and fuckable ass. Every inmate will want a piece of your ass. 20 or 30 BBC every day for months till you go to state prison. Your ass will permanently gape open and someone will nock out your front teeth. Or maybe you will meet one of Ja's men in jail first and have an accident. Five deaths in the county jail just this year. I can't believe you were stupid enough to borrow money from Ja. What do you think he is going to do to you when you can't pay him back? You'd be lucky if he just kills you and gets it over with. Ask you little buddy what kind of kinky shit Ja is into" Master Morgan: "He's too stupid to think, so we'll think for him. All of us, well take care of him, just like we take care of all of our boys." What the men, the Masters, were really proposing, finally sank into Mark's drug-addled brain. He went ballistic again and Red had to calm him down with a backhand so hard it probably loosened his teeth. Master Vincent: "You probably don't know this, but I specialize in medical power of attorney, financial power of attorney, and conservator agreements that work to gather to legally enslave a person. Well, not technically a slave but more than close enough and legally binding. Ethical? Hell no, but legal and profitable. You will sign willingly if you have any brains left and want to live." Mark: "How long? Forever!?" Morgan: "No. We are your friends. Just till you pay everything off and prove you are cured. How much did you borrow from Ja for what is in the case? How much do you owe the bookies?" Mark: "$50K to the bookies and $40k to Ja" Master Ricky: "Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you have any idea how much you will have to pay Ja back? You disrespected him. He is probably already looking for you and won't take less than $100K Fucking idiot. Morgan, can you help me scrap up enough to pay Ja back right away before it gets worse?" Master Morgan: "Yes, but he doesn't make enough to pay us back with interest and penalties. We'll have to whore him out to help pay it all off, and even with that it will take a year or two. Mark, you are an idiot, you will be paying with your body and submission for a year at least. Maybe if you're a good boy, when it is over, you will be cured. Let's get the paperwork done and bust this cherry. Been waiting to harvest it so long." Something Masters Morgan and Ricky said seemed to break Mark's resistance. He signed the documents without protest. All the men witnessed the signature. A Doctor even came by to sign some of the papers. Seven men looked at Mark like wolves look at a fresh kill. The only question was who would take the cherries. Master Morgan: "Cut cards for it?" Master Ricky: "You bet" Master Ricky won with the queen of diamonds. Master Morgan: "I guess you want his ass cherry?" Master Ricky: "Sure, I want both actually, but you are the one he insulted all those months ago. You came up with the plan that got us this piece of straight ass. It is only fair your cock is the first past his ass lips. I have a compromise solution. He'll open wide for me and my dick will be the one he sucks. My cock will be the first down his gagging throat. You work 3" of your 9.5 into his ass and make it a pussy. You take the first virgin territory, then we DP the pussy and take the last 4.5" of his virginity together." Master Morgan: "DP him on his first time. We might tear him." Master Ricky: "Strong straight ass like his can take it. If he does ripe, I know a guy that can stitch him back up. Even add some "husband stitches" so his pussy so will feel tighter and better. Better for us anyway. Come on, you know you want to. We'll make him scream like a teenage virgin at a donkey show." Master Morgan: "Deal" Mark didn't give his cherries away, not after hearing Masters Morgan and Ricky's bargain. He fought hard all the way to the playroom, but there were too many strong men even for Mark. He didn't accomplish a damn thing except add to the men's entertainment and anticipation. They all knew Mark, so they knew they were about to take 100% real strait ass. Sweet. He was put on his back on a leather bench, and his hands were tied above his head. Mark has very strong tree trunk legs, so it took all of the men to raise, spread, and tie his legs. All the struggling was pointless. He ended up bound with his legs in the air like so many fuck toys had before. His hairy small brown hole was exposed and vulnerable. His terrified face was at crotch level. Most of the men already had their phones out to record the scene. Morgan's playroom had cameras too of coarse. Master Ricky: "Open up bitch. You know what you signed up for." He shook his head and refused. Master Morgan used a motivational tool that I had never seen used on a human, a real full-powered cattle prod. Mark had always been a bull of a man, but the cattle prod was designed to control 2000 pounds of a real bull. He jerked so hard I thought he might break bones when the spark struck between his balls and his ass hole. He opened wide before Master Morgan decided to give him a second jolt to his taint. Master Ricky: "Good bitch, suck my cock. Look me in the eye when you suck my dick. Use more tongue if you don't want the prod again. Morgan will shock you till your taint is raw if you don't get with the program. How is your first taste of precum? Like it? Get used to it because your handsome face looks so good with my dick in your mouth. Going to open up your throat now. Gag all you want, but if I feel teeth, your balls will feel the cattle prod." Even with all my practice, I have some trouble deep-throating Mater Ricky's 10 inches. Mark did not have any choice, and he gaged and slobbered as the thick meat was pushed down his throat. As I watched, I thought about how I felt when Morgan had me at gunpoint and Mark had forced his fat long cock down my throat. I felt sorry for him. Master Morgan: "Stop fucking his throat, I want his ass, and you don't want to be between his teeth when I split his pussy lips. Look up, Mark. Look at my face while I make you a bitch. Like I told you way back in Dallas when you were still a man "Busting a pussy boy open with just spit lube makes sure he feels every inch and never forgets it. It will hurt less if you relax. I don't know. I'm not a bitch." Give me your hole. Push out and open your hole for me, Mark." Master Morgan used my throat to coat his cock with spit and fag slim. He hocked up a wade of his own saliva for Mark's ass hole. He pushed his dick head past Mark's ass lips incredibly slowly. A rare experience and pleasure too precious to rush. Master Morgan: "Chris use your oral skills to make his cock hard. A virgin only gets one first time, and her clit should be swollen." He popped his cock head in and out of the ass ring several times. Each time he sank his thick rod in Mark deeper. Mark's dick betrayed him and responded to my tongue and suction as it always has, rock hard, throbbing, and dripping. Master Morgan: "Your fuck chute is gripping me tight. Even tighter than I expected. How can such a big muscle man have such a sweet tight little hole? Yea, starting to like it? You're flexing around meat, I want to ram in you balls deep now, but a deal is a deal. I'm going to back out of you, and you are going to do just what you are told." Master Ricky held the cattle prod tip close to Mark's face so he could see the electric arc between the electrodes. The fight in Mark was frightened away, he did just what they said, and they positioned him to get DPed. Master Morgan was on his back and Mark was laying face-up on Master Morgan's chest. Master Morgan had generously coated his steel hard rod with Swiss Navy Silicone lube. Master Ricky had done the same. Both men had their weapon tips pressed against Mark's hairy tiny little hole. The terror on his face reminded me of a bitch in a slasher movie. It was not like Mark could run. Master Morgan had his arms looped over Mark's elbow, and the men held his legs tightly, and spread incredibly wide. Mark's martial arts training had not saved him from these men, but it did make him as limber and a gymnast. Before that night was over, the men would bend, stretch and fuck him in every imaginable position. Master Ricky: One of you guys put poopers under his nose. I know we are getting him off drugs, but we'll make an exception for poppers. Give him another huge hit, get him poppered up good, so his hole will relax. After all, I'm not cruel." Everyone laughed hard when he said that Master Morgan: "On three. One, two, three." Both of them rammed their dicks forward. Maybe 6" of both fat ridge cocks were inside Mark before his clinched muscles and friction slowed the pace to a crawl. Mark could not scream at first. He did not have any air left in his lungs. He just moved his mouth and made gasping noises. The Masters didn't wait for him, but they kept relishing the feeling of prying open virgin pussy. They seemed to take turns inching into new territory, one cock head leapfrogging over the other. When he could, Mark screamed and then begged. Mark: "TAKE THEM OUT! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, Morgan. PLEASE!" Master Morgan had an almost insane grin and answered "Yes, Fortunato, For the love of God" Master Ricky laughed as did a couple of others, so the Edgar Allen Poe quote was familiar to some of the group. I remembered the story too, and that and the look on Master Morgan's face scared me more than anything. Mark kept begging. What else could he do? Mark only paused begging when someone gave him another hit of poppers. When all of Mark's fuck chute was conquered and full, the Masters began to fuck him. They worked like a machine, a 2-cycle engine, twin pistons firing in tandem. Well, oiled pistons always moving past each other in and sealed tight against the wall of Mark's fuck chute. Master Ricky: "Chris, squeeze your head in and get his clit back in your mouth. I want him to remember he had a hard-on the first time he was used by men. He can never say he didn't love it. Our new bitch has an open hole, one of you guys crowd in and fuck it." Vincent was quick and had his relatively thin but long uncut cock in first. The angle was bad, but everyone was too horny to care. Vincent fucked Mark's mouth as deep as possible and slapped his head when needed to keep him sucking. Vincent came mostly in his mouth, but painted some on his face. I know for a fact Master Ricky can fuck forever when he wants to, but he bred Mark right after Vincent had finished. I think he just didn't want to bogart the new slave. Master Morgan was not so generous. Master Morgan: Next. Side in next to me. You have to feel how tight he is. Tightest pussy I've ever been in." Everyone did find out how tight Mark's double-stuffed pussy was, at least once. Everyone got to see Mark's handsome face stuffed with their cock too. Mark was poppered out of his mind and tasted everyone's cum and his own ass repeatedly. The last one to get to Mark's fuck holes was me. Master Rick ordered me to make out with Mark's sloppy, cum dripping pussy hole. My tongue had never slipped so easily up Mark's ass. Master Morgan: "Kiss your slave brother's pussy, deep sloppy kiss. Stir the cum we dumped in that hole. You fucking love this. Mark, push, push out our loads into your little buddy's sucking mouth. Chris, you greedy faggot, don't swallow. Good. Now give your best friend a kiss, right on the mouth. Share the cum. Give Mark a sloppy French kiss, you have been dying to kiss him since you first meet him. Master Ricky: I never, I mean never, thought I would see Mark making out with another dude. A fucking snowball kiss too. Damn Morgan, your plan worked out perfectly. When you told me last year that you would pay him back, I never thought you would go this far or could pull it off. You are a genius, a sick twisted genius. No one played poker. That night was all about Mark and Mark's intervention. I wonder if he thought getting high was worth the pain, his last shred of dignity, and his freedom? Time would tell if Marks's friend's tough "love" and discipline would cure him. I know for sure they put everything they had into fucking and breaking him. Author's note: I live in Memphis. I love hearing from my readers and especially love to hear from readers in the greater Memphis area. Thanks to all the readers who have given me story ideas. Your ideas made Chris's story much more exciting. There will be one last chapter to close Chris's story. I plan to close all my open story lines in the next few months, and start a new series with a different tone and feel to most of my other writings. Ideas and suggestions welcomed. Links below are to some of my other stories. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/dominated-by-boss-son/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/memphis-master/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/pussyboy-used-by-father-and-son https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/daddy-faggot-slave/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/urination/enslave-boss-after-the-apocalypse/

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/picked-up-a-hitcher/picked-up-a-hitcher-25

Date: Wed, 21 Jun 2023 20:30:18 +0000 (UTC) From: Clay Bottom Subject: picked-up-a-hitcher-Chapter 25 Picked Up a Hitcher 25, Final Chapter Disclaimer: The following contains explicit scenes of male sex and a variety of consensual activities. This story may not be copied or posted to any other websites without explicit permission from the author. All characters depicted are above 18 years of age. If any of this content is offensive to you or illegal to access in your geography, please do not proceed. This is a work of fiction and fantasy involving dangerous situations and unsafe sex meant to be entertaining but not copied in real life. Donate: Please donate to Nifty. This site gives writers and readers a free uncensored place to share our work and enjoy each other's imagination. Most of us get hours of great entertainment here, and we want it to stay around. Use this kink I mean link https://donate.nifty.org/ Story: Mark's "friends" had a plan to keep him sober and away from the bookies and casinos. The plan was to never leave Mark alone for even a minute. Not a classic 12-step program by a long shot, but Mark had already flunked out of one of the best rehab hospital programs, so time for tough love (and sexual slavery). Mark had been given the opportunity to man up and get straight, but maybe being a bitch for his "friends" was what he needed. Mark spent the night after his intervention at my house. I was Masters' number one boy and Mark's keeper. I wanted to put him in the guest bedroom, but he stuck to me like glue. I think even after everything that had happened and everything he had done to me, he saw me as his friend, the only "friend" who hadn't used, humiliated, and broken him. Anyone reading this would be right to think that this was my chance, my chance for the big get even. He would never be more vulnerable, body and mind. I just couldn't do it. He was right, I was still his friend, even after he enslaved me, used me, sold me, and treated me like someone he used to know, I was still his friend. I let him sleep in my bed with me. I'm not allowed to wear clothes when at home, so I was naked except for my chastity cage. Mark was caged now of course. Slave boys have tits and cunts, and Masters say when and if they ever are allowed a hard-on. He spooned me and wrapped his legs and arms around me. There was no way we could have had more skin-to-skin contact. Imagine being hugged from behind by a 6'3" teddy bear. His chest fur was wet with sweat and sticking to my skin. He was my slave brother, but he still smelled like a man. I could feel his cock cage lodged between my ass crack. I felt his warm breath in my ear as he fell into an exhausted sleep. I had fantasized about something romantic and sweet like this so many times, but not like this. I awoke in a different position in the morning, but Mark was still wrapped around me. A boy could get used to waking up like this. If his cock wasn't caged and he wasn't a slave brother, it would have been a dream come true. Early the next day, the men brought all of Mark's possessions (all he was allowed to keep) to my house. His new Masters would not waste money on an apartment, and he couldn't be trusted there anyway. It was not that much stuff really. His ex-wife must have gotten everything. Obviously, I was getting a roommate, or maybe I was a jailer with only one inmate. Babysitter? Later that week, cameras were installed in my house. The cameras looked expensive, and the cost was added to Mark's debt. The togetherness extended to work too. He had not been fired but was back on probation. He lost his office too. Master Morgan moved him into my office, so he would be monitored and kept out of trouble. Master Morgan took his phone and wallet, to remove temptation and prevent contact with bad influences. Mark was strangely OK with all this. All he seemed to care about was clinging to me. I had to draw the line when he followed me to the toilet; I wasn't going to share the stall with him when I took a shit (unless Master ordered me to). Naturally, Master Morgan gave Mark all his attention that had been going to me. Mark was the new toy and the problem child. I was a good boy who could be trusted to be alone, and that fucking sucked. I missed being his work-time fuck toy. I missed the thrill I got when Master Morgan fucked my face, fucked my ass, or buried my face with his ass. Fuck I loved rimming Master Morgan's ass, the smell, the taste, and making him moan better than any other boy. I wanted it. Mark hated it, but he got it every day and several times a day. On the plus side, when Marks was being used and trained by Master Morgan or another Master, I got some me time. Master Morgan was not the only "friend" to use Mark's newly available straight holes. Max, Red, Vincent, and Doc all occasionally stopped by the office or my house for blow jobs or slave pussy. My house, my office, and Mark's breath often smelled like cum. Mark got the heaviest use at the Friday night poker parties. Mark was one of several slave boys, but he was the only slave boy who had the body of an underwear model and the face of a movie star. Mark had frequently been an asshole to his friends for years. He had not been kind to the slave boys either. Paybacks are a bitch. He hated sucking cock and was visibly disgusted by cum in his mouth. Dumb of him to show it. It made it so entertaining to make him swallow load after load. Master Ricky even made Mark suck me off. "Mark, you are my cumdump's cumdump. Nastiest lowest slut here." At least I got to cum. Seeing Mark's handsome face stuffed with my squirting cock was a fantasy come to life. Still hard for me to believe it really happened. Mark didn't get to cum that night, or any time during his first weeks of sobriety and slavery. He was too traumatized to think about getting off at first, but hormones won't be denied forever. Mark had hormones to spare. I swear I could smell testosterone coming out of him when we were sweating and working out. On a Monday night, he awoke me with a scream. His brain wanted a wet dream, but his tortured, pinched, caged cock screamed NO! I got him calmed down easily, but the next night it happened again, and it took longer to get his cock to calm down. On Wednesday night, I had to put a bag of frozen peas on his cock cage to kill his failed erection. He begged me to get it off him. Like I had a key? It was one of Master Ricky's designs, no one could take that thing off him but a Master. The next day I helped him the only way I could, I begged Master Morgan for help. That got me a slap to the back of the head and this. Master Morgan: "Do you really think I don't know everything that goes on at the house you boys live in? Really? What did you think the cameras were there for? Don't answer that. By the way, you look adorable leading big bad Mark around like a lost puppy. Making his little boos all better and putting him back to sleep. Why didn't you tell him the way Ricky lets you cum? Like the bitch you are getting the shit fucked out of you. Tell him how hard you milk the dicks that use you, so your soft dicklet can shoot in its cage. That is the only way I will let Mark cum, and he has had multiple opportunities at every poker night to work his cunt muscles like the rest of you faggots." Not the response or answer I was hoping for. Me: "Master, please. He is new and not a natural like the rest of us boys. Please, I'm afraid he will damage himself. Please, let him out of the cage even if he can't touch it," That got me a harder slap to the back of the head and a warning look. Master Morgan: "I'll be the judge of who is a natural faggot, and how much he can take. Not your concern. Never bring this up again or question me, or you will get my full attention. Do you understand what that means? Me: "Master, Yes Master" Master Morgan: "Bring him to my home tonight at 7:00. I'll give him three hours out of his chastity device and all the cocks a pussy could want. He can cum all he wants hands-free. If he fails to cum hands-free, he won't get another chance for months." Again, not what I was hoping for, but I had already pushed my luck as far as I would. Master Morgan's cruelty and punishments tend to be a slow burn to agony with mental scaring. What he is doing to Mark is proof of that, and Mark is his "friend". I'm not sure if I fear Master Ricky or Master Morgan more, but they are both terrifying. Mark was so excited when I told him the cage would come off for three hours, I don't think he understood the rest of it. I did my best to coach him. He had the worst case of blue balls I had ever seen, but he was straight, so I was not at all sure he could cum just from getting fucked. Me: "This may be your only chance for a long time. 90% of getting off is in your head, not your junk or ass, so use your best spank-bank fantasies, and tap any of your whore or queer fantasies no matter how deep down you have to dig. Make the dicks in you milk your prostate. Relax, submit, and open up for the cocks when they pound into you and clamp down like a vice on the backstroke. The dick heads will massage your prostate that way. You need a long steady run of dicking, but too many guys cum right away. You need to keep your hole full and fucked, so do what you have to do to get another hard cock in you before your pussy cools down." Mark: "I don't have a pussy like you. I'm a man. I don't have any queer whore fantasies in my closet. I only get fucked and suck to get myself out of the mess I made of things, but I won't crave dick like you fags. I've fucked your whoring ass hundreds of times, and I know the tricks your cunt does to make you cum. " I was only trying to help, and he sounded like his old homophobe self. Why am I nice to him when he treats me like dirt? I didn't offer any more advice but helped him prep for a gang bang. He was perfectly clean and in a tiny pink jock strap. The cock cage showed prominently under the jock, and he looked like a BDSM porn star when I delivered him to Master Morgan. Only a photographer and Master Morgan were there in the beginning. The playroom had even more cameras and lights than usual. The set-up was unusual in another way too, there was a bowl of condoms by the sling and several brown bottles of poppers. Mark was posed in a sling when the filming started. First, his ankles and wrists were cuffed to the sling. Then something completely new, Master Morgan interviewed Mark. The Master asked Mark ordinary questions at first. How many times a week did he work out? How much can he bench press? When did he start martial arts training? Has he won any tournaments? What sports did he play in high school and college? Did he pledge a frat? Mark sounded like a total regular bro, but he looked like a cum-dump in a pink string jock and laying in a sling. Mark even sounded relaxed, till the questions got sexual. Are you straight? When did you lose your virginity? Was it to a woman? How many women have you fucked? When was the last time you got a nut? Do you like it when a woman puts a finger in your ass? Ever fuck a man? Ever been fucked by a man? At this point, Mark starts explaining why he got fucked by guys but totally was not his fault and he is totally straight. He is basically gay for pay. Not really the whole truth. Mark isn't gay for pay, he is a fucking slave hole till a real man says he has paid up and is "cured" of his addictions. Mark got flustered and embarrassed trying to explain why he was tied in a sling and going to get fucked, fucked so he could cum. Blue balls will make you do anything. Master Morgan: "Several horny men will be here soon. You don't know them and I don't either. The men will wear masks to protect their privacy while they use you for fuck meat till their balls are totally drained. Since the men are total strangers, they have to wear rubbers, ribbed rubbers for your pleasure. I'm about to let your big thick 10" cock out of its cage. Show the guys watching at home how hard your straight dick gets when you get fucked." Mark didn't react when he was told his fucking was being streamed live. Master Morgan slid a red bandana over Mark's eyes just before Master Ricky and the men came into the playroom. Mark was surrounded by young Latin men when Master Morgan cut off the pink jock and removed the chastity cage. Master Ricky: "I found these guys in the Autozone parking lot on Jackson Street. Mark, the place you call Wetback Town. The place contractors go for day labor. Fucking you is their job right now." Mark didn't answer back. All the men wore colored bandanas to disguise their faces, like cowboys or bandits. The guy that acted like the leader, pushed his soft fat uncut cock into Mark's mouth, so Mark could suck him hard. The man looked to be mid-forties, with dark brown skin, hairy with a bit of a beer gut. The men looked and smelled like they had just come from a roofing job. Dirty sweat-soaked torn work clothes on hard bodies. The youngest didn't look to be old enough to work, but the rest were thin, muscled, and in their twenties. A fag like me could smell the testosterone pouring off of them. Mark was blindfolded, but the look on his face showed he could smell and taste a day's worth of sweat, dried piss, and funk under the man's foreskin. He made a face, but his big 10 incher was hard while he sucked. The lead man did not use his mouth very long. He was about 8" hard. He took a deep hit off a popper's bottle and rolled a rubber on. The rubber was pre-lubed and that and spit wades were the lube he used to pound into Mark's hole. It obviously hurt and Mark made lots of grunts and whimpers for the camera. Master Ricky: "Chris, give your buddy a hit of poppers. Help him open up and enjoy the ride." I must have looked shocked. Master Ricky: "It's OK for him. Poppers aren't drugs any more than coffee or red bull. Get him poppered up and work and chew on his tits too. Touch all of him except his cock." That seemed like bullshit, but not mine to question. Mark huffed deeply every time I put the brown bottle to his nose. I had him flying while his almost dry hole was pounded. Mark's cock could not have been harder or pumped out more precum. It throbbed with every stroke. Contrary to what I had earlier told Mark, this guy did not cum fast. He worked the hole for about 20 minutes before pulling out and saying something to Master Ricky in Spanish. Master Ricky: "He said he fucking hates rubbers and can't cum with a trash bag on his dick. He says he and his men are going to go find a real bitch to fuck and breed." Master Morgan: "I totally understand. Bare just feels natural and real. I only fuck skin-to-skin. Mark, don't feel bad. We will line up some other men to pound the cum out of you in a couple of weeks. There have to be some men who want to use an anonymous cum dump and don't mind wearing a balloon on their dick. You'll get another chance in no more than a month for sure. But for now, time to ice your junk and get the cage back on. Mark: "PLEASE! NO! I got so close a couple of times. Don't stop, please. Fuck me! Fuck me raw! Just fuck me! PLEASE! Master Morgan: "That's what you want? Want these strangers to raw-dog and breed you? Say it. No, beg for it while you have a chance." Mark: "Please bareback my ass. Please I need you to fuck me raw. Fuck me however your want, just fuck me. Please, coat my guts with your sperm, and make me cum. I need to cum so bad and your raw cocks are the only way I can cum. Please, please fuck me raw." The Lead-man understood enough of Mark's begging and ripped the rubber off of his cock with enthusiasm. Mark got another couple of spit wades on his ass hole before the man sank his meat into Mark's warm tight welcoming hole. The guy got verbal. I only understood a few words, puta, leche, meco, verga, cono, and maricón. Even I could tell the guy was telling Mark he was going to cum in his faggot hole. I could tell Mark liked the guy's bare skin more than a ribbed condom, but his face still showed pain until the man gave him what he needed, a big creamy load of jizz. The guy fucked his cum deep into Mark for a couple of minutes and both of them loved it. Once the Lead-man had taken what he wanted, the other 7 went after the fag meat like wolves. They fucked both his holes, and Mark's raging hard-on said he loved it, I got pushed out of the way and the young men took over torturing his tits and forcing him to hit poppers. He fucking loved all of it except how fast they shot their loads. When his mouth wasn't full, he pleaded for more cock to fuck him harder. An uncut 9 inches of brown meat was taking a second turn in Mark's sloppy wet ass when the geyser blew. Mark screamed with a cock head in his mouth while his dick fired jets of warm cream cheese thick jizz at his face. Some went over his head, but most stuck to his face. Only the last gushes landed on his furry chest. I instinctively tried to get to him and lick him clean, but Master Ricky stopped me. The young men took care of the cum, rubbing their cocks in the sticky mess and feeding it to him. He had a minute or two of sanity after the shot, so he was disgusted eating his own cum off dicks fresh out of his ass. He must have had a lot of unreleased sperm in his blue balls. He stayed hard. A few more minutes of long dicking over his prostate had him back in whore mode. Masters Morgan and Ricky changed up the scene by moving Mark out of the sling but cuffing his wrists loosely to his ankles. They moved him to a low bench with his face up and his legs spread wide and high. Everybody had cum at least once, the men had staying power and time to explore. Mark came the second time with a Latin man's ass hole covering his mouth and a beer can thick dick pounding his pussy. He had cum twice hands-free while getting fucked, so yea, he had a pussy by then. The action slowed but never stopped for 2 hours. Master Morgan: "Hey Mark, You got off twice. Best nuts of your life, right? The men are just about satisfied, and your cock's free time is almost over. Want to call it a night and go back in chastity, or try for one more nut? Your slave brother Chris cums every time he gets DPed (not exactly true), want to get DPed and try for one more nut?" He looked confused and conflicted. I think he was still high on poppers and adrenaline. Mark: "I don't know. I'm so sore, It hurt so bad when you and Master Ricky DPed my virgin ass. It'll hurt bad again? You sure I'll cum again?" Master Morgan: "I promise you'll cum, and it won't hurt that bad this time, I promise." They uncuffed Mark's wrists and ankles but installed a large o-ring gag in his mouth. The Lead Man lay on the leather bench and Mark squatted on the man's thick brown cock just like a bitch. The Lead Man looped his arms over Mark's elbow to pin him down against his chest. A spreader bar and chain from the ceiling pulled up his legs and exposed his stuffed puffy pussy lips. The man that looked like a kid lined up his respectable 7" cock with the cummy hole, and Mark started thrashing and trying to communicate. No one could understand his words, but I knew what he was saying, NO! STOP! PLEASE NO! The other men held Mark's legs to keep him more or less still. Mark's attempts at talking were slowed down by the loogies and snot wades the guys dropped into his gagged open mouth. I had to cover his mouth with my hand to give him poppers hits, I got him as high on poppers as I dared. The moaning and screaming didn't help either. It wasn't for demonstration or show like in some double penetration porn pics and videos. They really fucked him hard and deep with both cocks. Their excitement was obvious, so I guess he was good and tight. Mark never went soft either, but his pleasure was extremely doubtful. The men mostly came fast. The next to the last man was fucking Mark when I was ordered to jack his cock and edge him. Mark looked at me like an insane man as I edged his cock and the men double-reamed his pussy. The last man was the biggest, He was beer can thick and long too. All the cum lube kept him from ripping Mark's hole apart. The pressure of the cock heads moving over his prostate was too much. I was ordered to drop his cock and back away. Master Morgan: "Back away, Get out of the shot. I want the camera to see the ripped hairy straight man get the cum double fucked out of him. Show us, Mark. Show us your fag-orgasm. You fucking cum when men destroy your ass." Mark's third cum shot was still strong and big. Some of his cum landed inside his mouth and on the o-ring gag. The anal spasms must have been strong and tight too. Both men bred his ass again while his cock was still jerking out the last drops of his load. That was a wrap. The men got dressed and left. Neither I nor Mark ever saw their faces or knew their names. We may never see them again. The only evidence that they were ever there is the cum dripping out of Mark's swollen pussy lips. Well, that is not entirely true. There are recordings made from several angles, but the cameras never saw their faces either. Neither did the men who watched online. Mark's face was recorded unmasked and up close during the interview section when he said he was straight and just gay-for-pay. He was worn out and subdued when his legs were lowered and the bandana was pulled off his face. He meekly put the chastity cage on his limp dick when ordered to, got on his knees, and opened wide when told to. Master Morgan dropped a small brown pill onto his tongue. Master Morgan: "Since you decided to let a bunch of anonymous men raw dog and bred you, you have to go on prep. I'll give you some piss to wash it down with since your a pig now. Swallow. Keep swallowing, I'm not done. Good boy. I'm going to enjoy watching you become an anonymous cumdump. Go to Doc tomorrow afternoon. He will check your throat and ass hole for the clap and other STDs. If you're clean, me and your other "friends" will DP you after the poker game tomorrow." Mark got a clean bill of health, a shot of antibiotics, and a prescription for prep. Doc told him to come back for another clap check after every time he was a random cum dump. Mark told him there wouldn't be a next time. The rest of us slave brothers didn't get checked out by Doc often, since we were mostly just shared only with the poker buddies. I did find out all the slaves were on prep too, even if we didn't know what we were taking. Red was the big winner at the Friday night poker party and was in charge of the after-game activities. He wanted to watch the edited video of Mark's gang bang. The three hours were edited down to just 60 minutes of the best parts. Mark was silent and pale watching and hearing himself beg for raw dick and cum. Master Morgan: "Mark, look at how many guys have already viewed your video. A huge number of likes too. The video has only been available for a few hours. Thousands of men have paid to see you. They didn't pay much, but still, they paid to watch you beg for raw cock and cum. You're a star." Red decided to have a reenactment but with Mark in chastity. The blindfolded muscle slut didn't cum, but his cock was straining in its cage when he was high on poppers and had two cocks fucking his red sore ass and a third in his mouth. Mark stayed in chastity and only got fucked by his "friends" for the next ten days. No poppers for him and no nutting either. He had several "friends" helping him out though, so he ate lots of hormone-rich cum, and his prostate got massaged with hard dick every day. Then he started waking up in the night in agony again, a cock as big as his can't be stuffed into a tiny cage forever without major pain. He soldiered on through the pain for several more days, but in the end, he begged Master Morgan for relief. He knew the price. His next gang bang was much like the first, but with different men using him. The guys fucking him seemed like random horny strangers off Beal Street. They spoke English and he understood every name and degrading thing they said, but he came multiple times and came hard like the first night. He told me he wouldn't do it again even if his balls turned literally blue. He didn't even last three days before he begged Master Morgan to whore him out again. Master Ricky set up the next breeding party for the cumdump. This one was at the French Riviera Gym after closing time. He was blindfolded and used on various exercise equipment and in the locker room. I think some of the men were cops, even naked and masked, they had the attitude and look. The workout equipment and locker room looked great on camera. Mark looked and acted like a real locker room slut. A couple of days later Master Ricky set Mark up as a blindfolded cumdump at an after-party for a Memphis Doll Killers concert. I think Mark got a contact high from drinking piss and cum from the stoned fans. He was definitely flying on poppers. He came four times hands-free while the band and their fans used him. It seemed like it was getting easier and easier for him to cum with only his pussy stimulated. Did his ass hole get more sensitive? Maybe, or maybe he got off on the danger or degradation. I don't know. He talked with me less and less and he was less clingy too. He graduated to full cum whore status at the next Friday night poker party. Master Morgan ordered me and the other regular slave brothers to edge and torture Mark's hole and tits while the men played poker. We descended on Mark like Dracula's wives descended on Renfield in the old movie. Our hands and mouths work all of his pleasure spots, except his cock. That was locked in a cage. He was in tortured ecstasy when we put a vibrator in his pussy and a 2nd vibrator on his taint. When his cock did try to get hard, we shocked his cock head with a violet want. Pleasure for his hole and tits, pain for his dick. Blue sparks keep his clit little and tame. Vincent was the night's big winner, so he was Caligula for the rest of the night. No bid surprise what he wanted. He wanted to see the hairy muscle bottom fuck himself on every Man's dick. He wasn't reluctant either. He sat on any dick he was told to and rode it like a nympho. Me and the slave brothers only got to suck a dick after Mark had ridden it. Everyone there knew he could take a double fuck, so Vincent wasn't satisfied with only one cock in the bitch. He had Mark fuck himself with a vibrator on full and squat on his big dick. DP himself with a big vibrator and Vincent's dick. Rode the dick and fucked his ass with the massaging toy. Looked hot as hell. I guess it felt hot as hell too. Mark's cock was far from hard, but he pumped out a load of jizz thick as paste. His dick and cock cage was covered in the fag juice. He tried to stop and get off Vincent's cock. No way that was happening. His face showed pleasure so intense it was painful, but he had to keep fucking himself. After Vincent had bred him. The others expected the same service. He could barely stand and his last fag-gasm was nearly dry. The Masters permitted him to cum as often as he wanted after his performance that night. He had embraced the program and his treatment 100%. A good slave deserves his reward. Mark had become a very boy good, and his hole was magic. His new freedom to cum came with restrictions. He could only cum when his guts were painted with sperm. He could only cum when his pussy was stretched around anon dick (or a Master's dick of course). He had to be blindfolded. He must be on camera every time he cums. I was far from the favorite after that night. Mark was every man's favorite. I didn't sulk. I upped my game. More time in the gym to put on more muscle. Kegel exercises to make my hole the best and tightest it could be. Pleasing Master Ricky and the others was all I thought about. I would be Master's number one boy again. Mark had only one thing on his mind after that night too, cumming. Cumming meant obsessively hunting for random anonymous cock and cum. He and I had built a glory hole booth in my garage back when he was my Master and whoring me (Chapter 20). He was the warm wet holes servicing the glory hole now, not me. Most of the men just wanted a blow job, but he always tried to get them to fuck him. He begged and licked balls and ass to convince them to fuck him, but most of the time they just shot their loads down his throat. He moved out of my room into the guest room. He spent hours head down and ass up with a vibrator. He was on all the hookup apps. Sometimes he got what he needed, the cum fucked out of him. Most of the time he did not get off, he just got fucked. His failures only seemed to make him want more. When he did hit the jackpot and find a good long-lasting dick that made him cum, he was a loud whore. His whole body would shake. I can only imagine how his cunt muscles contracted and quaked when he was pumping a thick load out of his soft caged cock. I looked out for him and watched on the monitors when he was getting used. I planned to call 911 if he found Mr. Goodbar or some other psycho. Later I would edit the videos to remove the dull parts and blur the Top's face, so the Masters could sell the clips. Mark's videos were popular and profitable. Mark got lots of fan mail. I answered most of it. Master Morgan helped Mark out too. Once or twice a week he set up parties for him. A group of fans would pay for a private meeting with the hairy muscle bottom star. He always got the cum fucked out of him on those nights and his pussy was always sore the next day. He went to work, went to the gym, came home, and whored himself half the night. The weekends were whoring 24 hours a day. He was basically living to get poppered up, fucked, and cum. Not my problem, but I worried anyway. This was the new normal for us for months. Eventually, I was brave enough to talk with Master Morgan about my worries, very respectfully. I set up a 15-minute meeting near quitting time, marked "Personal". Me: "Master Morgan, may I talk with you about Mark? I want to understand to serve better." Master Morgan: "Yes. Is wrong with him? Are you sure you want to understand?" Me: "Yes Master. Master, he has an addictive personality." Master Morgan: "Boy, did you figure that out all on your own? What is your point?" Me: "Yes Master. He never thinks about casinos, and he is sober, but you made gay and him addicted to poppers, random anonymous dick, and cum." I intended to say more, but Master Morgan stopped me. He slapped my face hard enough to leave a red hand print then, he squeezed my jaw hard and pulled my face close to his. Master Morgan: "Don't be stupid! I can't make him gay. You desperately tried for years to be straight. How did that work out, boy? Mark does and always will prefer women. I didn't addict him to anything. I showed him possibilities and he made his choices. He is a straight sex slave for his friends because he chose to be. He chose to be a poppers cum slut. Yes, it is degrading and dangerous, but he would be a toothless, homeless meth head or murdered by Ja for bad loans if I had not shown him a way out. Still an addict, he always will be addicted to something. He has a hole in his soul that has to be filled with something, and now he fills it with strangers' cocks and loads. Tell the truth, you like watching your big strong straight buddy whore his ass. A cum dump, no dick refused, and no load rejected. Say it, boy." Me: "Yes Master, I like watching him spread his cheeks for a man he doesn't know and cum with his guts painted with a stranger's sperm." Master Morgan: "A lot of men pay to see that. His debts are almost paid and I have been paid back too, my pound of flesh. Years ago, he insulted me when I was using my boy. Who is the faggot now? His conservatorship will be over soon. He will be free, but he will still be a straight cum junkie. He could get help from a therapist to break his sex addiction, his raw cock and cum addition, but he won't. He is hooked too deep. I think he will hate himself even more when he is free again and uncaged, but he still will open his ass to be used by men that he has no attraction to. He won't be able to stop. If he is lucky, maybe he will find a kink woman that he is attracted to that will peg him and share his ass and throat with her lovers, but I doubt it. Pegging won't be enough, he will need real raw cocks and cum, one after another after another. Never satisfied, always needing another cock in his greedy ass. Once a poppers cum slut, always a poppers cum slut, his anal orgasms, his fag-gasms are just too good to quit. Me: "Yes Master, too good to quit even when it hurts so bad." Master Morgan: "Chris you look heartbroken. Don't be. Sure your friend was my target all along and not you. Don't think of yourself as collateral damage in my revenge, think of yourself as the co-start of the movie I started making on the trip to Dallas. You eased him into the lifestyle. You were the first fag he ever let suck his dick, and he wanted more. You were the perfect slave for him and turned him into a faggot owner, a Master. A dream come true for you, or was it a nightmare? A dream come true for him too, but he had to fuck it up. I counted on that. My movie was never a parody of the "Hitcher" horror movie. It is a documentary about my revenge. Any man who calls me a faggot has to pay. (he seemed insane coldly insane as he said this) Mark has paid with his freedom, dignity, and his fuck holes. The story of a straight homophobe's journey, from totally straight to Alpha Top Master to cum junkie anal whore. The best part is he did it all to himself and he deserves everything he gets. The way he treated you when he owned you proves it." At this point, Master Morgan was stroking my face and hair, His voice was more tender than it had been when he was talking about his revenge. Master Morgan: "Good boy, good slave. Mark treated you like nothing, but Rickey is very proud of you. He cherishes you. He has plans for you when Mark is out of your life. He will show you things and make you feel things you can't imagine. We are going to my playroom now. Ricky will meet us there. You said our dicks in your hole are `too good to quit even when it hurts so bad.' We'll test that out tonight and many nights to come." Author's note: This is the final chapter of this story. Morgan has completed his long plan of revenge. Chris is in the place he always belonged. Master Rickey has a new number-one boy and a new favorite slave. Mark will be free soon, will he break his addictions or be a cum addicted whore for life? Time will tell. I plan to move on to a new story, but if another writer wants to pick up on Mark's further adventures and write new chapters, that's great. I live in Memphis. I love hearing from my readers and especially love to hear from readers in the greater Memphis area. Thanks to all the readers who have given me story ideas. Your ideas made Chris's story much more exciting. If you are ever in the Memphis area, hit me up and maybe we can have a beer and talk story ideas. The links below are to some of my other stories. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/dominated-by-boss-son/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/memphis-master/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/pussyboy-used-by-father-and-son https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/daddy-faggot-slave/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/urination/enslave-boss-after-the-apocalypse/

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/scott-and-louis

Date: Tue, 12 Nov 2024 10:04:38 +0000 From: Mat W Subject: Scott and Louis I'm not sure how much further I am going to go with this one - it may be a one-off. It came to me more or less fully formed but is, sadly, completely a work of fantasy! I hope you enjoy it - do please let me know you like it, and/or if you have ideas for where it might go if it were to continue - mattspank74@gmail.com. Feedback and suggestions always gratefully received. And please do support Nifty if you can, what would we do without it? --------------------------------------------------------------------------- When Scott and Louis got together, Scott's friends couldn't really see what he saw in the younger man. At 38, Scott ran his own clothing and accessories business, owned his own house in a good part of Brighton, was handsome and in the best shape of his life. Louis, on the other hand? Well, Louis was 26, a PhD student studying computer science, more or less a stereotypical nerd. Ginger, specs, 6'4" tall and skinny. And socially awkward, unlike the outgoing and charismatic Scott. Some of Scott's friends, to be brutally honest, simply thought that Louis saw a meal ticket. Because it seemed that he moved into Scott's house in indecent haste. They had first met in Legends one Friday evening in August. Scott was outside having a beer with two of his friends whom he'd known since he moved to Brighton to do his MBA almost ten years ago. Louis was sitting at the bar with an older woman drinking cocktails. Louis wasn't even Scott's type - his last boyfriend had been that older guy Mark who had moved to the US and tried to persuade Scott to go with him. Scott had gone up to the bar to get a round and his friends saw him speak briefly to the young ginger nerd. About an hour later, the nerd's friend had left and he was sitting alone at the bar nursing a gin and tonic and looking at his phone. Scott and his friends didn't pay any attention to him. Except that when Scott next went up to the bar, he had a longer conversation with the lanky lad. And when his friends suggested going for something to eat, Scott said he would stay and they saw him head inside and take up the bar stool next to the younger man as they left. Nothing changed about Scott. He continued to be the affable, outgoing, sociable guy he'd always been. But he was now dating this guy Louis. Scott's friends weren't judging him, but Clive, his oldest and closest friend, did ask him what he saw in the introverted, shy and geeky younger man. "I can't explain it, Clive," Scott had said, "he just seems to get me and we get on really well." And then less than six weeks later, Scott announced to his surprised friends that Louis was moving in at the weekend. He saw the shocked and, in some cases, disapproving faces of his friends, but explained that Louis's rental had come to an end and rather than extend for a further year, they'd decided that he might as well move in now. "I really don't know what it is that this Louis has, that Scott can see and we can't," Joey, another of Scott's circle of friends said, one evening not long after Louis had moved in. "Me neither," Clive agreed, "he's a nice enough lad, and clearly super intelligent, but nothing like Scott's usual type. And while he is friendly enough, he doesn't make much of an effort when they're out either." Scott's friends remained baffled. They'd have been even more surprised if they had been able to be flies on the wall in Scott's house. 7am on Monday morning. The alarm goes off and Louis stretches and yawns in the king-sized bed. Scott has already been up for two hours - his alarm goes off at 5. As Radio 3 comes on and Louis sits up in bed, Scott comes in with Louis's morning coffee and puts it on the bedside table. Louis is in his usual sleepwear - a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Scott is naked. Scott kneels down beside the bed and puts his hands behind his head, interlocking his fingers. He's not quite naked, actually. Around his neck is locked a leather collar. He wears a thick stainless steel cockring and his balls are weighed down by a heavy stainless steel ball stretcher. A large stainless steel plug is stretching his anus. Louis pushes the duvet back, sits on the edge of the bed and picks up his coffee with one hand and his phone with the other. Scott leans forward, extracts Louis's cock from the fly of his boxers and takes it into his mouth. As Louis scans his phone and drinks his coffee, he pisses into Scott's mouth, the strong acrid first piss of the day being drunk proficiently and silently. When the flow stops, Scott holds Louis's cock between his lips until Louis has finished drinking his coffee. "Thank You for allowing your slave to drink Your piss, Master Louis, Sir," Scott says when Louis pulls away. He doesn't bother putting his cock away but, standing, he walks past Scott without acknowledging his presence except to call, as he enters the en suite bathroom, "The black jeans, my green shirt and the dark grey pullover, boy." As he hears the shower start, Scott makes the bed and gets out the clothes that his Owner requested, along with a pair of Calvin Klein trunks and a pair of expensive black silk socks. He lays the clothes on the bed and then takes Louis's cup from the bedside table. He checks that everything is tidy before he heads downstairs, and makes a small adjustment to the pair of pillows in the centre of the head of the bed. Scott hasn't slept in what used to be his king-sized bed since Louis moved in eight months ago. He sleeps on the floor beside it in case his Owner needs to use his urinal in the night, with a rough army surplus blanket and one pillow. These he put away in his cell as soon as he had woken. Scott's cell is what used to be the large built-in wardrobe where he kept his clothes. What clothes he still owns are now kept in the hall cupboard downstairs. Louis oversaw Scott converting the wardrobe the first weekend that he moved in. Now it holds all the equipment that Louis has had Scott buy for his training - a range of buttplugs, several canes, a two-tailed and a three-tailed leather tawse, wooden and leather paddles, three set of nipple clamps of increasing viciousness, a ball gag, O-ring gag, phallus gag and a bit gag, a metal and a plastic chastity cage and several ball stretchers of different weights. Also in the cell are ropes, cuffs and shackles. When Louis has no need of Scott, he locks him in his cell. It has hooks and attachments for Louis to shackle and keep his slave there whenever he doesn't need him. The lightswitch is outside the door and Louis had a lock fitted that same weekend that he moved in. Scott has since spent many hours locked away in the dark. Because, you see, that meeting in Legends wasn't an accident, even though it looked it to Scott's friends. Louis and Scott had been talking online for several months before that first meeting. Scott's ex, Mark, had been the dominant one in their relationship, but wasn't into the regimented and strict life that Scott had realised he needed. That was why, when Mark had gone to the States, Scott had not gone with him. OK, his business and life were also in Brighton, but it was his deep need for slavery that kept him here. He'd started talking to Louis soon after he discovered that Mark would be moving. Despite Louis's comparative youth, he seemed to be exactly what Scott wanted and needed. Despite Louis's not being anything like Scott's normal `type', Scott found him deeply attractive and arousing in his clear dominance and straightforward acceptance that he was in charge and Scott, no matter what the world saw, was destined to be a naked slave. Louis hadn't just moved in on that weekend either. The gap between that first in-person meeting and his moving in was largely to ensure that certain legal steps were completed. The legal ownership of Scott's house and car were transferred to Louis. Whilst Scott still owned his successful business and worked as its CEO, all his income now went to Louis. Scott's credit cards had all been paid off, closed and shredded. His only source of funds now was a prepaid card which Louis put the minimum amount of money necessary onto to enable Scott to do grocery shopping and the like. Scott still had his work credit card, of course, but Louis checked all receipts on that, especially when Scott was entertaining clients or suppliers, to ensure that Scott followed the rules even when being the owner of an increasingly successful business. Louis sometimes wondered if Scott's staff and friends had noticed the change in him. Louis got off as much on Scott appearing to be living a regular life to his staff and friends as he did on owning him as his slave. But there had been changes. The one thing that no-one could fail to notice was that where previously Scott had fashionably styled longish wavy dark hair, he now had a very severe `short back and sides' style. And his occasional display of facial hair or a few days' growth of scruff was no more, he was always immaculately clean-shaven. Scott no longer drank alcohol. In fact, he drank nothing but water. No tea, no coffee, no juice or anything else. Just plain water. Well, that's not quite true. When at home with Louis, he drank all Louis's piss of course. And unless he was entertaining for work purposes, he did drink something else - he no longer ate like normal men. Scott's daily calorie needs were met by drinking Huel for Breakfast and lunch and a simple meal of grilled fish or chicken, wholemeal pasta and vegetables in the evening. Scott's previously extensive wardrobe had been drastically slimmed down when Louis moved in. Obviously, Scott was naked at all times in what was now Louis's house. Louis had supervised him while he cut up all his designer underwear to be used for cleaning cloths around the house. Louis selected the three plainest of Scott's suits and five of the plainest ties. Under that posh suit he was generally now commando or, very occasionally, in a jock. Louis had Scott put the rest of his treasured suit and tie collections into black bags, along with all his designer shirts and socks. Now he always wore a plain white shirt which, if anyone had been able to see the label, they would see was own-label from Asda. Similarly, Louis had chosen a couple of pairs of jeans and chinos together with a few casual shirts and tops. When he went out with his friends he was always commando, no jocks this time. The rest of his leisurewear joined Scott's work clothes in black bags along with all the clothes that he had previously worn when at home after work. All of his designer gym wear was likewise bagged up. Louis went through Scott's cupboard full of shoes and selected one pair of black and one pair of brown work shoes, one pair of dress shoes for occasions, two pairs of casual ones and Scott's running shoes. The rest? Yes, all into black bags. Also into the bags went all his topcoats and the like, again with a couple being kept for show. Scott was then supervised taking all the bags of expensive clothes to a local charity shop. Scott's wardrobe was extended in other ways, however. Several `Bike' style jocks were ordered. Scott was sent to Asda to buy cheap black socks for work and white ones for casual and workout wear as well as the white shirts he would be wearing for work and running errands henceforth. Asda also supplied several pairs of cheap black trousers and a pair of cheap shoes for when he needed to go out to buy groceries. From a workwear company he bought a pair of cheap dungaree-style overalls. Decathlon was visited to purchase a pair of very short, flimsy running shorts and a singlet. Louis also oversaw Scott's purchase in Decathlon of a decent treadmill and exercise bike, a fully fitted multi gym and a set of free weights. There was no need for Scott to belong to his fancy gym anymore, when he could work out at home. That also saved on gym clothes, as he could work out naked as well. Instead of paying for the gym and his friendly personal trainer there, Louis advertised online for (and found) a gay PT, Giles, who wouldn't be fazed by Scott's nudity and would visit Louis's home to put Scott through his paces. Scott worked on his body with Giles three times a week, obeyed him like he would Louis and was punished by him just as he would be by Louis. And if Giles needed to piss whilst training Scott, Scott would be on his knees and swallowing just like he would with Louis. Every weekday morning Scott spent an hour on either the treadmill or the exercise bike as soon as he got up. Louis had had Scott spend a bit more on these so that reports on his training could be sent to Louis's app. And woe betide Scott if Louis detected any slacking. At weekends, he and Louis ran outside together, usually 5k on a Saturday and 10k on a Sunday. This was what those flimsy short shorts and the singlet were for. It wasn't just his clothing and changing to just drinking water (and piss and Huel) and losing his house and having no money of his own and working out naked under the close attention of a demanding personal trainer which was different for Scott's `normal' life. He had not had anything other than a cold shower for eight months. Louis had had the downstairs shower adapted so that it only produced cold water now and that was what Scott used. All Scott's expensive body washes, bath oils, shaving products, deodorants and fragrances had been disposed of. Scott now used Wright's Coal Tar soap at 80p a bar and Wash'n'Go 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner for his hair at £1 a bottle. Under his arms for work he used the cheapest, fragrance-free deodorant that he could source. At all other times, he went without deodorant. His manscaping clippers were disposed of - every four weeks, Scott visited a salon just outside Brighton for a full body wax, including what the website called `intimate areas' to ensure that he was hairless and smooth at all times below the neck. He was allowed to keep his expensive razor and replenish its blades - Louis understood that a good quality razor was important to ensure that Scott presented a properly shaven face to the world every day. Back to Monday morning. While Louis showers and dresses, Scott is downstairs preparing Louis's breakfast. The table in the kitchen is laid as it would be in a five star hotel. Louis is a man of habit. Each weekday morning he has a bowl of muesli with skimmed milk and two slices of toast and marmalade alongside a pot of English Breakfast tea. Until he moved into his new home, this would have been a rushed affair with a tea bag in a cup, Asda muesli and cheap bread. Since he now has the income of a successful CEO to live on, he has Fortnum and Mason tea, with top quality muesli, bread handmade by his slave and the highest quality marmalade, also delivered by Fortnum's. Louis comes into the kitchen fully dressed but with bare feet. Having heard his Owner's footsteps on the stairs, Scott is kneeling beside the table ready to pour Louis's tea and to pour milk over his muesli. Once Louis has sat down and has a cup of tea and a bowl of muesli he opens his iPad which is on the table ready for him. As he eats and reads the Guardian, his slave will wait on his knees beside the table, hands behind his head and fingers interlocked again. He doesn't speak and keeps his eyes downcast. When he hears the spoon clatter into the muesli bowl, he stands, refills Louis's tea cup, clears the bowl,and puts the toast on. When it pops out of the toaster, he puts it into the toast rack and puts it next to Louis's plate and resumes his position on his knees. Like he did after using his urinal in the bedroom, Louis completely ignores his slave as he looks after his needs. This is Scott's place now - he asked, no begged, for it. And Louis knows that Scott has never felt so happy and fulfilled as he does now. And, although he'd never tell his slave this, Louis has similarly never been so settled and content in his life. When he has finished his tea and toast, Louis gets up and heads upstairs to use the toilet and clean his teeth. While he does this, Scott clears away the breakfast things, washes up and puts everything away. Having made sure that the kitchen is clean and tidy, Scott puts the Guardian and Louis's lunch into his work bag and takes the bag as he heads to the hallway, where he stands against the front door, feet apart, nose and toes to the door, hands again behind his head with his elbows parallel with his shoulders. Louis comes down again and opens the hall cupboard, taking out the clothes which Scott will wear today and his work bag. Placing them on a chair in the hall, he unlocks the collar around Scott's neck and goes into the living room while Scott turns around and quickly gets dressed, turning into the successful CEO that the world thinks he is. Taking the shoes that Louis has selected to wear for the day, Scott crawls on his hands and knees into the living room and places the shoes on his Master's feet. When they are comfortably tied, he bends forward and kisses each shoe before crawling ahead of Louis into the hallway. Scott takes up Louis's bag, his own work bag and the car keys. Opening the front door for Louis, he locks it behind him as Louis waits beside the car. Scott opens the rear door for Louis and hands him his bag before getting into the driver's seat. Every morning, Scott drives Louis to the University where he parks the car and then walks to his own office. Each evening, he walks from his office to the University - a fifteen minute drive followed by a forty-five minute walk each way when if he just walked from home directly to his office as he used to before he became Louis's slave it would have taken him twenty minutes. On arrival at the University, Louis is dropped at the door of his building, with Scott getting out to open the door for him. Louis heads inside without acknowledging his slave or looking back, as Scott gets back into the car, drives to the car park, parks and begins the walk to his office. He does this in all weathers - he is allowed a raincoat if it is raining but does not have an umbrella. His secretary has (not knowing that he has walked from the University, thinking he has walked from home) asked him more than once why he doesn't get a cab, but Scott just says that he likes the walk and it clears his head. When Louis is done for the day, he will text his slave, who will finish up whatever he is doing and set off to walk back to the University. Louis, of course, has full access to Scott's calendar and can see if he has any commitments which would make leaving as ordered difficult. When he gets to the University, Scott collects the car from its space, texts Louis to say he is on his way and drives round to the front of the building where he dropped his Master that morning. Louis will be waiting in the foyer and Scott gets out and opens the door again for his Master before driving them home. Once they are home, Scott undresses the moment the front door is closed and hangs his clothes back up in his cupboard. He takes up his position against the front door as he did that morning, and Louis locks the leather collar around his neck again. Scott remains against the door as Louis heads upstairs.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/looking-for-labour-slave/

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Date: Fri, 14 Apr 2023 22:10:44 +0000 (UTC) From: Clay Bottom Subject: picked-up-a-hitcher-Chapter 23 Picked Up a Hitcher 23 Disclaimer: The following contains explicit scenes of male sex and a variety of consensual activities. This story may not be copied or posted to any other websites without explicit permission from the author. All characters depicted are above 18 years of age. If any of this content is offensive to you or illegal to access in your geography, please do not proceed. This is a work of fiction and fantasy involving dangerous situations and unsafe sex meant to be entertaining but not copied in real life. Donate: Please donate to Nifty. This site gives writers and readers a free uncensored place to share our work and enjoy each other's imagination. Most of us get hours of great entertainment here and we want it to stay around. Use this kink I mean link https://donate.nifty.org/ I had a new life without my wife but with a new Master. Nothing normal about my new life, but it quickly began to feel normal. I was almost a 24/7 live-in slave. I slept and severed Master Ricky four or five nights per week. I was his maid, his cook, his urinal, his cum-dump, and most importantly, his boy. I was Master Ricky's good boy, and he allowed me to sleep in his bed most nights. I felt so safe, content, and just plain good when I lay close to him. Some nights he was unavailable. I slept at my own house and got anxious those nights. I had time to wonder if he was working his cop job. Was he a dirty cop or maybe a good undercover cop? How many sub-slaves did he own, buy, and sell? He used his power to turn that straight jock into a pussy. At first, he blackmailed, drugged, and painfully raped me (I was another man's slave, and could not consent). But since he has owned me, he has been very good to me, not gentle, FUCK NO not gentle, but kind. So I guess I'm devoted to him whether he is a clean cop or a dirty cop. At work, I served and serviced Master Morgan just like Master Ricky. Mark was a different dynamic altogether. Master Ricky, made Mark ask permission every time before I was allowed to service him. Of course, I ended up doing whatever Mark wanted, but Ricky just wanted to emasculate Mark first. That just made Mark more pissed off and he took it out on me. He had always been verbal when he used me, but when he was pissed, he was mean. He had been a close friend, so he knew how to hurt me with his words while he hurt my insides with his big dick. Over the next couple of months, he used me less and less often. The last time he used me at work, he looked thinner. He had never been fat but had had a big muscular body, but he had lost muscle over the last few weeks. As I was sucking his cock, I could smell bourbon and weed. Not exactly appropriate at 10 AM at work. Despite everything, I felt bad for him and I was worried. He had been a good friend before he made me a slave. Maybe he had whisky dick or maybe he was distracted, but he took a long time to cum. I used every trick and all my considerable skills to get him off eventually. He did not cum a big load, but he made sure some of it was on my face, on my shirt, and in my hair. Mark: "Get what you needed faggot? Fucking cum leach." With that, he left my office and didn't bother to close the door. I scrambled to get off my knees and clean my face. There was no way to clean up good enough to get all of his cum smell off me. I think that said more than his words, I was a worthless cum rag to him now. I didn't see Mark again for weeks. Master Morgan sent me home early. The next day I found out Mark had been escorted off the property. He had failed a "random" drug test. He wasn't fired, not yet anyway. He was in rehab for two months to work on substance abuse issues. He should have been working on gambling issues too. While Mark was locked up in rehab, Master Ricky pulled me further into his world. It started with small things. He let me go with him while he worked undercover. It was like role-playing. An easy natural role for me, I played his bitch. The first couple of times nothing much happened. The second time, we went to an affluent suburb and everyone looked safe. Everyone smoked some weed and packages changed hands. I assume, but I don't know that drugs and money were swapped. The man in charge looked like a TV dad, but he didn't act like one. He asked Master Ricky how much to fuck the fag. Master Ricky: "Totally free this time. My treat. Pleasure doing business with you and the start of a profitable partnership." The dad type took me to a bedroom. I knew why I was there and stripped fast. The guy was fucking fascinated by my chastity cage. Said he loved how Ricky had mechanically neutered me. He gagged me to get his cock wet with fag slobber and that was all the lube I got before he slammed his eight inches into me. I screamed. I couldn't help it. He wasn't huge, but he was almost dry and too fast. No one came to my rescue, but I took it, and he didn't last long. I moaned in real pleasure when his cum finally lubed my hole properly. The dude was satisfied. "It is tight as fuck. Bring it along every time you come over. I'll want to use that hole again." That was a typical encounter when I went with Master Ricky while he worked. Sometimes I was pimped out, and sometimes I was ignored. Either way, I got to be with Master Ricky more, and he was pleased with me, so win-win. I knew something was different before my most extreme experience. Master Ricky took off my chastity cage which he rarely does. Master Ricky: "Don't even think about touching your dicklet. Play with your true sex organs all you want to, work your tits and finger fuck your pussy, but your oversized clit is a toy only men can play with. You have been a very obedient good boy, so I'm trusting you with a dangerous job. I know you will do everything right today because you're a natural faggot slave and totally brainwashed. If you do fuck-up, the men we are meeting will fuck us both up, maybe permanently. Remember the pain when I forced you to impale yourself on the 13 Ridges of Hell hole stretcher? Remember how painfully I fucked your wrecked hole afterward and how I stuffed your cunt with golf balls? Remember the pain pushing out the rough balls from your swollen raw cunt lips? Remember the gang rape that followed? Remember the pain? That pain will be nothing compared to what these men will give you if they think you are a cop." Now I was scared. I got more scared as we drove into the dangerous Hickory Hills section of Memphis. Normally I avoid that part of town at all costs. We parked at a rundown apartment complex with some boarded-up apartments. The apartment we went to was a shotgun-style one-bedroom. The place had one window and one door off the living room with the other rooms behind the living room, so a fire trap. What was going on here wasn't subtle. There were bags of pills and powder on the coffee table with glass pipes and small propane torches too. A tray of loose weed was the least worrying thing in sight, and the 9 mm Glocks and rifles were the most worrying. I'm naive, but even I knew Master Ricky brought me here to skate-n-fuck. The other men in the apartment seemed hyped like they had already smoked a lot of ice. The guy who seemed to be in charge was called Ja and was kind of short like me and thin. He was very dark-skinned with a shaved head and probably was handsome when he was younger. The other two men looked to be barely 18 and both were tall and pretty well-built with a modern braided black hairstyle. There was one other male in the room. A dog with the coloring and head of a rottweiler, but freakishly big like a massif. The animal looked like a monster and scared the shit out of me. I sat at Master Ricky's feet and everyone ignored me at first as they talked and smoked. I didn't pay attention to what they said. I was too scared to listen. I had never seen Master Ricky smoke or do hard drugs before, but he acted like he knew what he was doing. I had been high on coke and hallucinating when I was gang raped on the golf course, but I was a virgin to ice till Master Ricky exhaled his smoke into my sucking lungs. Even weekend second-hand smoke made me feel high, good, and instantly horny. This could get to be a habit and problem so easily. Ja: "Here, I'll give you some too. Open wide." Ja exhaled as I sucked in his clouds of smoke. He hocked a loogie of spit into my mouth and pushed me away. As the men talked and smoked, I crawled on my knees like a dog between the men to get any clouds they would blow in my face. I had no shame. I eagerly to followed Ja to the bedroom to get used. I needed cock in me and needed it badly. The bedroom was dirtier than the living room. It was obvious from the dresses, curlers, and make-up that a woman shared this room with Ja. Clothes and junk covered everything except the bed and the big-screen TV. Ja started a gang-bang porno on the TV. A bleached blond white whore with big fake tits was taking enormous black cocks in every hole of her body. Ja's cock was not enormous but was a thin 7 uncut inches. I was eager to get fucked, and tied to peel back his foreskin and suck him hard, but he slapped the back of my head to stop me. Ja: "NO, I'm sensitive. Gentle!" I was afraid of what he would do if I made him cum too soon or hurt him, so I very gently held his foreskin-covered hard cock in my mouth for a few minutes while he watched the porn and occasionally smoked more. He fed me his precum and fingered my hole, and that made me squirm with pleasure Ja: "Tight pussy. You like this dick? You want it in your pussy? Get on your side." FUCK, it was all I could do to stay still and not ride his cock. It felt so good inside me. He barely moved inside me, just short slow strokes. All too soon, it ended. Ja: "Suck me again. Love pulling out of bitch's ass and putting my dirty cock in her mouth. You like my dick? Like the taste of your ass? Clean my dick bitch." He went from my ass to my mouth twice more over the next few minutes. I've never enjoyed a fuck less, More of a tease than a fuck. But Ja enjoyed himself and got off, and that is what counts. He held his cock in me balls deep when he unloaded his nut in me, I could feel his dick throbbing and jerking inside me. He came super hard and flooded my hole. He let me clean his cock and taste his cum, but slowly and extremely gently. He was satisfied, and I was hornier than ever but had sense enough to be afraid and very careful and obedient. As Ja left the room, the two other men came in. Nothing gentle or slow about the way they fucked me. They did not even bother to completely undress but just pulled down their shorts. They were both hung, 9 inches plus. I was gagging on BBC while cum was getting churned in my stretched ass. Consciously or not, the men mimicked the men in the porno abusing the nympho white bitch. "Watch the teeth. Fuck not telling you again. Knock your teeth out if you bite and I'll fuck your gums." "Tighten up the pussy bitch. I said tighten that pussy." I tried but I guess I wasn't fast or good enough, because he started slapping my ass hard. "Tight pussy now, just have to beat the bitch." Like Ja, these guys liked seeing me go ass-to-mouth on their cocks. They traded holes several times before cumming. Both of them finished in my pussy and fucked their loads into me deep. I was finishing mouth cleaning them when two more men came in. These guys were not nearly as young or well-built, but I needed to get the cum fucked out of me so bad, I eagerly took their hard rough fucks and loads. I worked my nipples and flexed my cunt muscles trying to cum hands-free, but I could not quite get there, and no one gave me a reach around. I hoped more men would come in and use me, but I was made to crawl back to the living room. It seemed Master Ricky and Ja had finished up their business while Ja's men and maybe some of Ja's neighbors were fucking the shit out of me. Master Ricky: "Pleasure doing business." Ja: "Not done yet, you said your bitch would service all my boys. One dick not service yet." To my disbelief and shock, Ja was looking at his giant dog, King. Ja: "King can smell a bitch in the neighborhood. Has to breed." I looked at Master Ricky hoping for a reprieve, but he said: "You heard the man, King has to breed, and you're the only bitch here. You know what to do, give him head then ass." If the situation had been different, if I had not been afraid for my life, if I had not been so fucking high, if I had not been so fucking horny, I might have finally said no to a Master. What I did was crawl over to King and put my head between his legs and lick his already partially exposed pink slimy cock. I think King was smelling a dog in heat somewhere close. He was almost instantly completely hard and exposed. His cock shaft was thicker than Ja's and maybe 8" long not counting the knot. The knot was as thick as my fist. Master Ricky: "Kneel here with your chest on the couch. Spread your cheeks and show him your pussy." King smelled my ass and then licked my ass. I moaned and was instantly ashamed of myself. King was humping me as soon as he mounted me. His thick dog cock was just sliding in my cummy ass crack as fast as a sewing machine needle at first, humiliating but not painful. The pain hit when King's tip found my hole. He slammed in as far as he could go in one thrust. My cunt lips were too tight for his knot to get through on the first thrust, but he kept humping trying to get all the way in. He humped faster and harder than any of the others had. Ja: "Open up for him. Let him. Take the fucking knot. Merant, help King get in the bitch." One of Ja's men helped King get up farther and in a better position. I think he pushed King's knot too. One way or another the fist-size dog knot tore its way into my cunt. I screamed and tried to move, but over 150 pounds of dog weight kept me pinned till King was done. His knot moved back and forth just inside my cunt lips, That both hurt and made me want to cum at the same time. I was so stretched and full. I could feel my cock jumping. I rubbed my nipples against the rough couch cushion. Damn, I needed to cum, but not when I was locked up with a dog dick in me. King came in me before I went over the edge and nutted, He stopped thrusting as he bred me. I could feel the pulses of his big load injected deep inside me. I stayed very still as King waited for his knot to shrink down enough to pull out. Even his partly deflated knot, hurt when he pulled out, and cum ran out of my gaping hole. Relief poured over me because I thought it was over, but it wasn't. Ja: "Like I told you, Love pulling out of bitch's ass and putting my dirty cock in her mouth, King does too." Dog cum must be the most bitter gamey stuff on earth because that was all I could taste when I sucked his still-hard cock. His cum was that strong even watered down with 5 loads of sweet human cum. King was a giant, but affectionate, he licked my face while I licked and sucked my ass juices and churned-up cum off his pink and red dog dick. I exhaled loudly with visible relief when we finally back in the car driving away. Master Ricky: "Boy, you did extremely well. I'm proud of you. You bought me credibility with your fuck holes. I didn't know about the dog breeding beforehand, but it worked out perfectly. No cop would stand by and let his partner, get gang banged by several feet of big black cocks much less by a mutant rottweiler. You continue to surprise me. I knew you were a kinky slut, but I had no idea you were sick enough to get off on servicing dog dick. You more than liked it, you loved it. I saw your throbbing cock and the look on your face when King's knot was hung in you. Ja will have no doubts about you. No cop is low enough to get off on literally being a bitch for a dog. Later, I may give you a big reward and take you to Oak Lawn for the horse races. Get you a pony ride, but for now, I'm taking you home and fucking your ass till you cum. I've never used dog cum as lube before Author's note: I love to hear from men who read my stories. I live in Memphis. I would especially love to hear from readers in the greater Memphis area. Thanks to all the readers who have given me story ideas. The ideas made Chris's story much more exciting.

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Date: Mon, 11 Nov 2024 17:17:44 +0500 From: Master DomTop Subject: A cop daddy taken down - 1 Inspired by true events, hope my pups will enjoy the story. Dont forget to support nifty and share your feedbacks via email. Chapter-1: ----------------- I stepped out of the bathroom, my hair damp with drops of water running down my sculpted body. Wrapped in a towel tied around my waist, I walked toward the large mirror on the wall, the wooden floor beneath my feet making familiar creaks with each step. The sound echoed through the room, a soothing echo that accompanied my progress. In front of the mirror, I stopped, staring at my reflection. I knew every detail of that face and body, but I couldn't help but feel a certain satisfaction every time I saw it. Hello, I am Officer David Conrad, Dave for short, I'm 6'5 and I've always been THAT guy you know...The alpha of the pack. I must say that my imposing build left little to be desired. I have sculpted my body with care, square jaw, perfectly trimmed stubble, my boulder sized arms display prominent muscles that are outlined under the taut skin, my six pack is outlined with impressive clarity, evoking both discipline and aesthetics and then my fucking big ass, each curve drawn to perfection, It is firm and fleshy, offering a most exciting shape if I believe the looks, it is the part of my body that I have worked the most I think. But most magnificent asset that I endow is my 8 incher that had been the dream of the most and nightmare of the few. I can also count on the reputation that I have built up with the female gender, I am known for practicing hardcore sex and these women are more than proud when it is their turn to spread their legs and I can tell you that they always leave satisfied. I may be famous for my sex drive but it didnt make me excel in my married like. I and my gold digger wife parted ways long ago leaving me with my only pride that is my son, William. She tried hard but fortunately I got the guardianship of my son. My reputation is also based on my work, I am an authoritarian and powerful police officer who does not hesitate to abuse his power in certain cases, for fun, I love seeing these little criminals play tough and then soften when they realize the risks they are running, it makes me hard amd sexually powerful. Hardly anyone knows, I would fuck the bad boys promising their freedom that rarely happened. In addition I just got promoted as the station head, I will still be able to have fun with these criminals, those I find the most rough I force them to give me very slobbery blowjobs in exchange for a call or a benevolent report towards them, their pathetic face full of my cock makes me laugh too much. I finished putting on my work outfit, I had chosen it very tight I want to see those hungry looks on those faces, I will drop my son off first then go to work. "Hey son, I'm in the car, hurry up" I said to him. My son and I have a great relationship, he is the son I had imagined (except for a few details), he is tall, nice bod with defined abs but not muscular enough in my opinion (as I am), and then we would not suspect him but he is quite introvert by nature, I worry about how he will handle girls, he has never tried to pick one up or even bring one home. "I'm coming" I heard. "Well, you seem pretty upset, son. Is something wrong in class?" "No Dad, it's nothing...who likes going to high school honestly" "Don't say that, you'll see that adult life is worse... Enjoy it, they're the best years of your life, believe me... Do you have your keys? Normally I would have already come home but you never know." I said. "Yeah " "Come on, let's go, you're going to be late." ******* I walked proudly into the precinct and faced a lobby where activity never stopped. The noise of phones, keyboards, and conversations instantly faded, replaced by applause and whistles. My colleagues were happy for me and knew I deserved this position. I walked forward confidently and thanked them with a nod, I had to find a way to not be too cool with them given my position but at the same time close enough. "Get to work you bunch of freaks" I said jokingly. With a discreet gesture I pointed to Eddie my new office signaling that I wanted to see him. Eddie is my sure guy, under his Hulk looks he is as gentle as a lamb and always ready to serve, with my new position I told myself that he would deserve to be promoted too. He knocked at my door a few moments later and I allowed him to come in. He closed the door behind him. He stood in the center of the room waiting for my next words. "As you know Eddie, with my promotion, there is a vacancy at my next position, as you have always been efficient I think it goes without saying that this position will go to you, right?" "Seriously sir, it would be an honor for me" said Eddie. "You see I'm delighted but as you know nothing is...free" That bastard was already starting to smile, he knows very well why he is here. I had already lowered the blinds for our privacy. "Of course sir, I understand." He said in his obedient boy voice. That was all I needed to spread my legs and watch this stallion fall to his knees, pass under the executioner and undo the buckle of my belt. ******* William walked through the gate of his high school without forgetting to let out a sigh, he still thought about his father's words, how these years are supposed to be the best while poor William gets bullied every day. If William has a physique that can impose a certain intimidation, he had neither the aura nor the character strong enough to assert it, and Caleb had understood that well. Caleb is THE highschool bully. He's 5'10, brown complexion and authoritative. Better to be his ally than his enemy. He had a gang of five mad boys who were all like 6 feet tall, had athletic built and bullies like him. Despite, Caleb the odd one out owing to his height, he led them all. He was the gang leader amd evry other guy obliged to his commands. William wondered what he had done to deserve such relentlessness from Caleb and his gang to ruin his life, but the truth is, did he need one? There was this time when William was in the cafeteria, tray in hand, he was looking for a seat and in his search, Caleb already seated on a table tripped him up, spilling his entire meal. Of course this made everyone laugh and dive. William in shame, he wanted to confront Caleb in a civilized way but Caleb is fierce and accompanied by his gang of fools, William would inevitably end up abdicating, he preferred to let it go. He also had this time in the locker room after gym class. He was putting on his t-shirt, tired but happy that he had managed to concentrate during practice. Caleb and his rookies were already there, chatting loudly, pretending not to have noticed him. As William closed his locker and headed out, he heard a noise behind him. A loud thud. His bag had been snatched from his hand by Caleb, who was now tossing it around like a ball. They laughed, cracking jokes about how William was "too slow to catch anything." Every time he tried to reach out to retrieve his bag, he found himself pushed back and forth, tossed from hand to hand like he was just a toy in their clutches. William felt trapped and the other students around him did nothing, preferring to avoid getting involved in the scene and it's understandable, a guy of William's height gets knocked around so they're not the ones who will go looking for trouble. He asked Caleb to stop in a tone that was meant to be peaceful, but the hatred in his eyes betrayed him, Caleb did not appreciate that. After what seemed like an eternity, Caleb tossed the bag into the still-wet shower. Watching its contents soak through, William stood there, his face burning with shame and rage. "Next time you'll talk to me differently, pathetic, otherwise it's this pretty little face that I'll burst, got it?" Caleb warned with his wild hounds hooting around. He wanted to react, to beat the shit out of Caleb but once again, he told himself that it would be useless. He took a deep breath, picked up his soaked bag, and left the place without a word. He let it go, as always. He couldn't react they way someone would expect from a guy like him. For now he wasn't hit yet but it wouldn't be long, anyway Caleb stood in front of his locker, the sound of students crossing the hall echoing around him. He tried to concentrate on what he had to take for his next classes, but as always, his peace didn't last. A familiar voice rose behind him, mocking and threatening. "Hey, look who's here, isn't that the son of the New Station Head, our favorite toy?" Caleb said, a smirk on his lips, his faithful troop still behind him. William tensed, his fingers clutching the cover of his math textbook. His heart suddenly started racing high. Caleb stepped forward and, with a sudden movement, slammed William's locker hard, making him jump. The noise echoed through the hall, drawing a few curious glances. "What you all looking at?! Get out of here,everyone !." Caleb ordered. William sighed as he watched everyone walk away, leaving him alone with his tormentors. "And as for you, I think you've been very vocal lately, I preferred it when you were on mute and obedient" Caleb said while spanking William's round ass. Able felt strangely...excited. "Well I have to go" William decided to play it cool and calm things down like hiding something. "But we're only just getting started, bitch" Caleb snatched the textbook from William's hands and threw it into the air. The book landed a few feet away, to the approving laughter of his friends. "Come on Willie, fetch it," Caleb taunted. This was too much for William who could not stand it anymore without saying anything, seized by a surge of rage he rushed straight at Caleb and pinned him against his locker. Caleb was taken aback, getting pinned by the tall William. His fellow gang members Sid and Joseph came to his rescue. They fetched the angry William apart. "You're going to stop your bullshit right now", William said in a harsh but calm tone. "Oh yeah and what are you going to do, idiot" The smirk on Caleb's face felt strange to William to the highest degree, he tried escaping from the hold of the two bullies when his hand hit Caleb's face. "I'm sorry....", "Ohhh Fucking bastard...you're gonna pay for this !." Caleb said through gritted teeth. Caleb's troop immobilized William completely. Caleb delivers merciless blows to William's body, targeting sensitive areas like his ribs. "AHHH..." "feels good huh....here another one....You should keep your mouth shut. and another punch. "Ohhh....Mhhhh....» William groaned "SHUT THE FUCK UP, CUNT" Caleb punched him in the face, close to the nose but not enough to break it. Caleb's pack threw poor William against his locker, where he was immediately pinned by Caleb's warm body. "This is the last time willie boy... that you dare to rebel, understood... the next time Im gonna fuck the shit out of you understood." To emphasize his words, he pressed his penis against William's ass that shuddered him. We could hear Caleb's friends adopting the behavior of little sluts to make fun of William. "Oh yeah Caleb" "Give it to me" "Fuck my ass, Caleb please" "Let me go", William said with frustration. Caleb banged William's head against his locker and ran off with his gang. "Fuck off, damn it," William raged. "Why do you let them do that William? You are stronger and bigger but you do nothing to that jerk", his friend Riley came to console him. William didn't respond and stayed quite lost in his thoughts. ******* Sitting quietly on the couch watching TV I was resting peacefully after this intense day of work. Luckily I had Eddie, he knew how to reward my hard work. I cummed on his face and he was so hotter that way. I was patiently waiting for my son when I heard him come in and slam the door. "Hey what's wrong...Danm who did this to you" I saw some bandages on his face. "It's nothing, it's superficial Dad, the nurse has already done her job, I just defended myself" "That's not your style...well, I'm glad you don't let them push you around, but...do they bother you at school?" "But no, it's nothing, I tell you, it can happen, you know Men's stuff" I watched him walk to his room and slam that door too. I didn't know what to do, at the same time I thought to myself maybe it can happen to anyone to fight especially young men, I decided to put that story aside and order a pizza to comfort him. ******* The next day again William comes home from school slamming the door, I was starting to get worried, it's not his habit, plus these days he's always angry, nervous, as if every person who gets too close to him was his enemy. I waited for him to calm down to talk about it. I heard his phone receive a notification and my luck was that he had left his phone and bag in the kitchen. I got up from the couch and discreetly took his phone, it was locked but I knew his password. The messages were from a certain Caleb. "Listen up, you better come tomorrow with a completely different attitude. Because if you keep playing the little rebel, I promise you that what happened to you so far was nothing." "You think you're ashamed now? Wait until you see what I have planned for you if you don't come." "It's up to you. You see how generous I am, I'm offering you this chance. Otherwise, prepare yourself to live through hell." I couldn't believe what I was reading. The station head'son was being threatened ? I could already feel the hatred rising inside me. This person has some nerve. "William!!! Come here right now!" he yelled. "What Dad?" "What is this, explain to me, right now" I scrolled the messages before his eyes. William was getting nervous and was looking for something to say to defend himself. "You're not going to tell me it's nothing, are you?" I continued. "It's just a figure of speech" "You're kidding me... you've been acting weird lately, I don't recognize you, now I understand better." I cried. What father can accept that. "Listen Dad stay away from this...you'll only make it worse I can handle it. He's just some jerk who thinks he has power in high school you know the type." "How did he get your number...since the way he talks to you you can't have given it to him or you're stupid." "Stay away from this Dad, promise me...I can handle it." I hesitated for a moment, then when I saw his determined look, I gave up. "Fine...But if I ever see that nothing changes, I'll make it my business." "Ok" Obviously I lied, tomorrow I'm going to his high school to put this Caleb in his place. ******* The next morning I let my son go to school alone, it would save me from being recognized by whoever counted. I put my routine clothes on and go with all the authority and confidence at William's high school. I made my way through the students, not knowing where to go, I had hoped to run into my son with the bully who was tormenting him, without success. So I turned to a student and asked him where I could find a certain Caleb. He showed me the way and I went into the basement, I wondered what a student could do here, I advanced cautiously then when I was close enough to hear a voice and from where I was I could fully feel the authority emanating from it. I almost had a heart attack seeing the scene playing out in front of me. My son was bent over a table by two boys taking spankings from who I assume was Caleb. My son was there alla lone being humiliated by a gang of four boys. "Look at the new station head'son, Shawn. He likes it. Make sure you record everything. Im not gonna let him away with the complaint he made against me." Caleb said. Caleb's gang was also recording the scene with his phone and making fun of my son and his helplessness. I was petrified to see that. My brain couldn't process the image it was seeing because it was so unimaginable, how a 6'4, large, muscular guy can let a 5'10 toy with him that way, that's insulting, humiliating...I mean this guy is a shrimp next to my son. How could this happen? My son didn't give off an alpha aura certainly but to be a beta. "You think you've been punished enough, you'll be a good boy?" Caleb asked. "Yes", My son replied out loud head down. "Yes, what prick?", Caleb gave one tight slap on his ass cheek. "Yes Sir, ohhh", William's body wriggled with a groan. He tried to push the goons away but the two boys tightly pushed him down and Caleb guy gave another round of spanks reminding my son that he was in charge and nobody is gonna help him. Hearing my son called that piece of shit "Sir" made me realize that the scene was real, I wanted to help my son I swear but something was holding me back and then I hoped deep down that he would fight back, for his honor. "Listen to Daddy, boy....you're gonna get on your knees, take off my pants and suck my BIG cock that I know you've been craving for a while." What did he just day? My son is not a cock sucker. He is a man's man and hearing those words I knew William is gonna hit him with full might. No straight man can stand such bullshit. But to my great shock, I watched my son fall to his knees with an obedience that I myself would not have believed possible. He's my Fucking Son, I raised it to my image, this is not my Son! "Please dont record that", William's hands reached for Caleb's crotch. I was froze. I expected my son to hit him in the face and kick the shit out of him. But he did all was requesting them not to record. How could he willingly do that? "Boy, it is for my use only. I will watch it when you are not available", Caleb pulled my son's face up with his hand and said woth a devious smile. Watching that I realized something that Caleb is really....charismatic. What Caleb has, not everyone has it but every man would want it: power. Caleb's voice was so full of confidence, not an ounce of malice, that it felt like it was natural for my son to obey him. I was in a state of shock, my heart beating faster and faster when I heard the belt buckle undo itself, my breathing hitched as Caleb's t-shirt flew into the air, revealing a body more muscular than I would have thought, well- defined abs and rather massive pecs. He was....beautiful. "Shit" I muttered, opening my eyes wide. If this asshole's body was laughable to me, his cock was not. This asshole had a nice big, straight, veiny cock, comparable to mine, the kind that Eddie would gladly take up in his ass for. Normally, seeing this shit, I would have intervened and saved my son, but I just stood there watching, wanting to know what happened next. I hate to say it but I was excited to see how would my son take such a massive cock. "Ohhh....Mhhhhh....lick it go on....you'll see it's good....yeah fuck go on Willie. You know you want that" Caleb was over the moon. I couldn't believe that my alpha lookimg son was on his knees and kicking someone's cock. The scene was unrealistic for me, my son, so tall, dropping down so easily to lick, swallowing that cock like it was his last meal triggered something in me. The natural course of things would have wanted it to be the other way around, the strongest dominates the weakest, My son dominating that little shit Caleb and that's exactly why I found it....fascinating. I watched the scene motionless, this interaction went beyond simple intimidation, just Caleb's overwhelming aura filled the room. He exerted such a strong psychological hold that my son, although so robust, had no choice but to comply with Caleb's will. It was subtle, precise, this invisible power struggle attracted me. "Look at me...Yeah...go ahead choke on my dick...Mhhhh...that's good...smile at the camera...yeah...that's so fucking good...that's my bitch...look at his pathetic face." Caleb said. I wasn't even paying attention but I was getting hard, nothing could keep up with this view, not even Eddie's blowjobs. It was so erotic. "Ohhh fuck you gonna make me cum....keep it up baby....you a good boy huh... Mhhhh...love the sound u make...gag on my dick fag."he laughed. William didnt like being called all those humiliating words by Caleb but he only complied to his orders. Caleb had his eyes closed, his mouth half open, moaning non-stop. His cock was using my son's mouth like a pussy. My son had watery eyes, his jaw deformed by his cock, a submissive look... and it was the most beautiful image that these two could offer me. It's what I've always preferred in sex, seeing the bottom accept his fate as a cocksucker but it's the first time I imagined myself as one and it sent shivers down my spine. I imagined myself in my son's place, on my knees, with my back arched, a cock in my mouth and forcing myself to raise my chin to look at Caleb. Being tall, I rarely lower my head to look at my interlocutor, even if they were my superior. I've always been the one who made the decisions, been the commander and up to now I've never complained. And even with Eddie we practically have the same sex, now that I see it from an outside point of view, my mind fills with perverse images, experiences that I would never have dared to imagine. "Mhhhhh.....fuckkkk yeah....I know you were made for this the second i see those glutes....Mhhhhh....Ohhhhhh.....yeah like that......take it all....gag on it...Mhhhh .....Oh fuck I'm going to cum....wait...pull out....stick your tongue out so we can see how desperate you are for my cum....Mhhh......MHHHHHHHHHHH....OHHHHHHHHH..... FUCKKKKKK......MHHHHHHH H......BIG LOAD FOR A BIG BOY....Mhhhhhh....Ohhhh....feel good" I watched as Caleb's big cock spurted huge amounts of cum all over my son's face, defiling him. As a father I felt extremely bad for having implicitly participated in my son's downfall, I just felt like if I got any closer. I looked down at my crotch and was shocked to see a big wet spot. I oozed precum watching two men in action, not a straight guy would do. William remained wisely on his knees, accepting another man's seed on him. "That's a good faggot...see you tomorrow." Caleb gave him a non-violent but meaningful slap, meaning "I own you." Caleb left and I hid so he wouldn't see me. I would like to avoid explaining to him why I didn't intervene to defend my son, I would like to say that it's shock but no, it's something else. When I heard my son zipping his pants, I took the opportunity to leave discreetly and find a quiet place to think. -------------- All the cops reading this submit to Me. Let Me own and train you to become the best whores. Share your desires with Me and let Me show you what you really meant to be. Email with your shirtless pics with a submissive smile.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/snowflake/

Nifty Archive: snowflake ™ Have a Nifty Day nifty gay authoritarian snowflake SizeDateFilename 16K Dec 8 13:25 game-night 4K Dec 7 18:51 next-morning 17K Dec 5 19:06 party-time 6K Dec 4 18:47 preparations 8K Dec 2 20:13 gym 10K Dec 1 20:11 touch-up 4K Dec 1 10:20 choices 10K Nov 30 13:23 binkgo 2K Nov 29 19:50 photo-work 7K Nov 28 12:43 morning-questions 7K Nov 27 23:23 a-turn-of-events 4K Nov 25 17:25 at-the-shoppe 5K Nov 24 21:19 the-morning-after 15K Nov 23 18:31 show-and-tell 9K Nov 23 10:48 oh-oh 5K Nov 21 21:33 smile 9K Nov 20 19:25 made-smooth-and-pretty 12K Nov 16 20:42 the-examination 5K Nov 15 20:44 introduction 3K Nov 14 22:49 getting-ready 11K Nov 13 19:56 wow 3K Nov 12 17:36 arrival 5K Nov 11 19:33 who-is-who 5K Nov 10 13:40 a-lost-soul

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-man-with-the-jeep/the-man-with-the-jeep-48

Date: Thu, 15 Feb 2024 19:03:42 +0000 From: DurtyRiter <DurtyRiter@protonmail.com> Subject: The Man with the Jeep, Chapter 48 Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! -DurtyRiter ********* The Man with the Jeep Chapter 46 Over the next few days, Andrew was so captivated with the possibility of launching his nursery that he found it harder to concentrate at work than usual. It was easy to envision making money doing what he loved, but he was enough of a realist to know that was just a pipe dream without lots of preparation and a good mindset. When he wasn't working, he began to parse out a business plan for it. He was surprised to find that even though he felt he had a reasonable overall agenda, articulating it coherently and definitively proved a challenge. He wrote it all out the best he could and set it aside so he could look at it again later more objectively. He was dismayed at how shallow and inadequate it was when he re-read it the next day. What now? He decided he was going to have to delve more into how to run a successful small business before he made that leap. He spoke to a couple people he knew who had their own businesses and asked for help. The advice he got was widely divergent, but a common recommendation was to read a book called "The E-Myth," so he checked it out from the local library. It was an easy enough book to read, though he was impatient with the seemingly "fluffy" first couple chapters. And then it got good. He promptly returned the library book and bought his own copy (the "Revisited" edition, no less) so he could write notes and highlight things as he went. Just doing that shocked him, because it was so instilled in him to never deface a book. But he decided he would rather do that than keep a notebook and then need to cross-reference between them later. He knew he was going to be doing that a lot. He finished reading it by the end of the day he bought it. And then started over the next. Things clicked into place, and he found himself even more excited about the project. He knew he could do this, and he was determined to do it right the first time. All of a sudden, it was easy to write everything out and make plans. From the very start, he didn't have any problems with the pragmatic elements like finding a building, setting it up, lining up wholesale sources for products, and outlining a marketing strategy. Now he had an entire separate train of thought for how the business could/should/would be run. He poured all his effort into making the most succinct business outline he couldÑ-even profiling future expansion moves if the company expanded that far. By the end, he was quite pleased and confident with his business plan. He had John go over the completed program to get his feedback. "Wow, Andrew," he breathed. "This is really good! I never did any of this myself, but it looks really well put together. I can tell you've put a lot of thought into what you want to do, how you plan to get there, and even backup plans for a lot of it. Kudos to you!" "Thanks, John," a pleased Andrew replied. "You think I could get a business loan for it now?" "I already told you I'd back you," answered a confused John. "You didn't need to do all this for me!" "I know. Honestly, it was more for me. You asked if I had a plan, and I said yes, but when I started writing it out, I realized it wasn't as flushed out as I thought, so I decided to do some more homework." "Well, it certainly shows! It looks brilliant to me!" "Thanks." Andrew paused for a moment. "I've been thinking about you investing in it, and I think I'd rather hold off on that for now, if that's okay." "Really? Why?" "A couple reasons. The first is that I know you would actually be investing in meÑ-which I appreciate more than you can possibly knowÑ-rather than for the sake of the business. And secondly (and don't get upset with me here), what if something were to happen between us? That would make the entire thing super awkward, and I never want to resent you for anything. Does that make sense?" John had work very hard not to be dismayed. Hadn't he done everything he could to prove to Andrew that he was here for the long haul? And now for Andrew to purposely shut him out of what could possibly be the most significant change in his lifeÑ-a career move that John himself had championed-Ñwas hard to take. Why would he do that? Unless he still thought that he was a failure waiting to happen. What would it take to get through to him that John loved him regardless of his faults? "So you still aren't convinced that you're worthy or whatever of being happy with me? I thought we've been working on that. It sounded like we'd finally started moving past that point." "We have! That's not it at all!" If that wasn't the reason, what could it be? Was Andrew still primed to bolt on him? After everything they've gone through and all the effort they put into setting the foundation for a good relationship, was it still that precarious? John was reaching the end of what he knew to do. He was not one to give up, but there does come a point when you realize that what you are aiming for is never going to happen. And he hated wasted effort on anything. "Then what is it? Because all I hear is that you still have one foot out the door in your head. I don't know how much more of that I can take, Andrew." "I'm sorry." `"I'm sorry?" Really?!? Just like that? He's just giving up? I thought he was changing for the better and starting to give himself his proper worth. He kept saying his low self-esteem was what was driving his doubts about us being together. I thought we'd addressed that! I've always known it wouldn't be an overnight turnaround, but I thought he'd put some effort in to be better before he bailed. Unless I was wrong all along and he's just an emotional leech. Yeah, I won't stand for that for a single moment. But here he was cutting everything off with a blissful "sorry"! And he clearly wasn't joking. How could I have been so stupid to spend so much effort on someone who was so closed to change? To think I had thought this one was The One! I even bottomed for this guy! And for him to just throw it all away...' John's face visibly changed, and Andrew knew instantly that John had misinterpreted his apology. "No, no, no!" Andrew cried. "Hear me out! I'm apologizing for all my past wishy-washiness, that's all! I promise!" John's expression didn't soften much, but Andrew was grateful he was still listening. Another point in his favor to add to the long list was that John actually listened. "Okay..." replied a rarely stoic John. "You know the old saying about never going into business with your friends?" "Yeah." "That's all this is. I never want this to even have the possibility of growing into a wedge between us. I swear that's it." "It does make some sense when you put it like that," John admitted. His glower had softened, but there was still some of that dark cloud to it. Andrew hated seeing that. He wanted his happy, supportive, and confident John back. "I swear that's all I'm thinking about here," Andrew said again as he moved to John and meekly put his arms around him. John completed the hug, but there was something about it that lacked the feel-good element upon which Andrew had come to rely. "I get it," he finally replied. "You want this to be a purely business thing." "Yes," came the muffled reply. "Okay." Andrew dared not break the embrace lest he see a detached look in John's eyes. The next time he spoke, John seemed to have most of his verve back. "Have you already talked to the banks for backing?" "Not yet," Andrew replied. "I wanted you to look over everything first to see if I might have missed something." "I didn't notice anything. It honestly does look like the most complete proposal I've ever seen," John said. "Cool. I'm going to call around and see if I can an appointment for tomorrow." "What are you using for collateral?" "Oh yeah," Andrew said. "I hadn't thought of that. My car's not worth enough, but I might have enough equity in the house." "You really are going all in on this, aren't you?" "I decided why not. I see it as looking into whether they WOULD back me. I don't need to take it out instantly, right?" "They would certainly expect you to," John replied. It almost sounded like an attempt at humor, but there was no accompanying chuckle, and it still came across as flat. Andrew really hoped he hadn't ruined everything with John just when he had buckled down to walk away from his reticence and doubt about their potential future together. "Have you been able to get ahold of the guy who owns that greenhouse?" "I talked to him briefly, but he said he needed to find the paperwork for it and think about it." "I guess that's fair." "It is," John agreed. "We did kind of spring it on him out of the blue." Andrew instantly recognized that John used the word "we" and felt a huge surge of relief that he apparently hadn't permanently damaged their relationship. "Do you think I should wait until we hear back from him?" "I would. Whatever rent or lease payment we work out with him will affect the amount you'll need from the lender." "Oh yeah," replied Andrew, feeling like a dunderhead. "Let me call him again and see if he's had a chance to think it over." "I'd appreciate that." John reluctantly let go of Andrew and fished out his phone from his pocket to dial. --- "Hey Mr. Bradshaw, this is John Finnegan." --- "Yes sir! I was wondering if you'd had a chance to think about what you'd like to do with the shop." --- "That would be amazing, thank you! I presume that includes the shop and the greenhouse, right? --- "What about the house?" --- "No kidding! Wow, that is so generous! Thank you so much!" --- "I'm absolutely humbled, sir. We'll take good care of it, I promise!" --- Thanks again, sir!" John tapped the button to end the call and turned to Andrew. "You're not going to believe this..." he began, and then told Andrew that the owner was willing to sell it to them as long as it would revert back to him if they defaulted on the payments. "So, basically, it's a rent-to-own property?" asked Andrew. "Essentially," John agreed. "His kids are just getting ready to go to college, so he decided he'd like the monthly income rather than a lump sum. He knows my family, so he trusts we will be trustworthy, but if we fall behind, then he will sell it outright to someone else." "That is awfully nice of him!" "It really is!" John agreed. "And here's the kicker: that's for the entire property, farmhouse and all!" "Holy smokes!" John just looked at him and laughed at that. "`Holy smokes?'" "My grandpa used to say that all the time," Andrew admitted bashfully. "It just came out." "I see. Anyway, I have another thought that I don't know if you want to consider or not." "Okay..." "Since the deal includes the house, you could sell yours and use the profits to get started rather than take out a bank loan. That way, you wouldn't have to worry about making two rent payments, or the interest charges on the loan." "It would also cut out my commute if I quit my job too." "It would. It's risky, of course, and I'm pretty sure we'd need to fix some stuff with the old farmhouse, but I'd be happy to lend a hand with that. It would really give you a quick boost. And with all that research you've just done, I bet you know just to do next." Andrew's head swam. "This is all happening way too fast all of a sudden." "Hey, you don't have to decide instantly. In fact, you shouldn't. Let it percolate and see how it settles with you." "That's some good advice." "Happy to be here to give it! And while you're thinking about it, let me throw one more optional log on the fire for you to consider." "What's that?" "Remember how I'm wanting to get into property management?" "Yeah." "I could start on that by buying your place from you. That shouldn't violate your no-business-with-friends policy." "What I'm hearing is that you've figured out a way to invest in me without being a direct investor in my nursery," Andrew observed. "I suppose I have," John laughed. "But you can say no and I'll understand." "I appreciate that. I definitely have some thinking to do." "I know how happy that makes you," laughed John. "And with that, I shall bid you a very fond farewell and see myself out." "What? Already?" "Yeah, I have a bunch of stuff to do for tomorrow." "Oh," said a disappointed Andrew. "I was hoping you would spend the night here tonight." "As much as I'd love to, my projects are all at home. Besides, I doubt I'd give you much chance to ponder all your business options if I stayed," he said, cupping his crotch with a wink. "You're probably right about that," Andrew agreed with a smile. "When are we going to head back to camp?" "Hmmm," said John, scrubbing his scruffy chin. "I seem to recall an imminent birthday party coming up..." "Oh yeah," Andrew remembered. "That's this Sunday." "I'm excited to finally meet some of your people! But we could go up just for the day and then come back for the party, or we can push our next visit back a week." "But what about that restaurant girl's grandma's party?" "Ugh! People need to stop having birthdays," John complained. "But at least Ya-Ya's party is the following Monday, so we should be good for hitting the Jacks that weekend." "In that case, let's just hold off this weekend. Who knows? We might find things to do here in town just as well." "That is a possibility," John laughed. He leaned over and gave Andrew a kiss. "Speaking of things to do, do you really have to leave now?" "It pains me, but I really should," chuckled John. "Not that I wouldn't much rather share this with you," he added as he grasped Andrew's instantly twitching junk in his palm. Andrew sighed. "I will make it up to you, though: I promise." "I'm going to hold you to that." "Please do! But for now, I will see you later," John said, giving Andrew another kiss. John made is way out and was gone in a few minutes, but Andrew was restless. Thanks to John's grasping hands, his cock was up and being a serious distraction. Knowing he wouldn't be getting anything more done until he took care of it, he went over to sit in his desk chair and woke up his computer. Since John wasn't available, he'd just have to take matters into his own hands for today. He pulled up his favorite porn site and started scrolling through the options, trying to guess which links would lead to videos of hot guys doing hot things. He started and cut short several before he realized he was in the mood to see something more aggressive than his usual picks. He pulled up the category options in the list on the side of the screen. Bareback...twinks...straight guys...daddies...groupsl...big dicks...creampies...blowjobs...solos...cumshots...handjobs...rough...fetish... Fetish. Hmm, he hadn't really checked out any of that before. Maybe that would be fun. He clicked on a few to try, and found fisting, chastity, torture, and feet, and again ended up cutting them short pretty quickly. They all proved somewhat uninspiring. It seemed that nothing would do for him today. He discovered having interesting live sex with a hot boyfriend tended to mute the appeal of porn in general. Not that he didn't still appreciate all the sexy men or hot scenarios that could be found, but John made everything seem a bit pale in comparison. He found some with leather, ropes, and chains, and those were a little better. He stumbled across one with a skinny blonde guy chained to be spread eagled on top of a table being struck with a black leather flogger until his skin was red. Andrew wasn't sure why he didn't dismiss this particular one as quickly as the others. It was probably curiosity more than anything, but it was somehow intriguing. He stroked his cock slowly as he watched. It slowly dawned on him that this wasn't too far removed from the things that he'd been exploring with John lately. The camera angle switched to show the guy's hole being stretched and readied with two hands while the flogging continued. Andrew realized there were two guys working this guy over, and it got a little more interesting. He started moving faster as he stroked. Once the twink's hole was nice and loosened up, those hands slathered some lube on a thick veiny cock. By now, the captive was rosy red over most of his body. Even loosened up, the blonde's ass looked way too small to take that big pole. But it lined itself up anyway and speared the smaller guy in one powerful thrust, pushing the receiver to the edge of his restraints. Andrew was into it now. The guy on camera cried out at the sudden penetration when the view switched to watch the dominator go at it with gusto. There, in all his glory, was John. ********* I'd love to hear from you if you have any questions or any suggestions for where this story should go :) Also, if you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day! DurtyRiter@protonmail.com

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/daddy-faggot-slave/daddy-faggot-slave-16

Date: Sun, 5 Mar 2023 19:39:34 +0000 (UTC) From: Clay Bottom Subject: Daddy Faggot Slave 16 Daddy Faggot Slave Part 16 Donate Please donate to nifty. This site gives writers and readers a free uncensored place to share our work and enjoy each other's imagination. Most of us get hours of great entertainment here, and we want it to stay around. Use this kink I mean link https://donate.nifty.org/ Disclaimer: This is adult oriented original fiction depicting explicit and graphic sexual situations between adult men. Things depicted here may be considered unsafe sex or illegal. These acts are part of a fictional story and not recommended in real life. By reading this story you are saying you of legal age to read such material and live where this type of reading material is legal Feedback: Please send me feedback about my story at clay.bottom@yahoo.com. I love hearing from all my readers, but especially love to hear from readers in the greater Memphis area. Story: Master Jess: "Stop crying. I'll let you sleep at my place tonight. I've never let you sleep in my bed before, so this is a real treat for you. I'll fuck your brains out and you blues away. Come on, let's go" Master Jess was being kind to me, giving me a mercy fuck. He was right too, sleeping in his bed would be a treat and a privilege. I'd been fucked by dozens of men, but I had never got to sleep with a man. I was hurting more than I could take, and Master Jess had pity on me that day. He had used me and sold me regularly, but deep down I was still family and he cared. He was very young when I married his sister, so I had been a big part of his whole life. Kind of a much older brother and kind of like a second Dad. I taught him to throw a curveball. I took him on his first camping trip. When he hit puberty (age 9), he came to me to ask questions he was too embarrassed to ask his Mom and Dad. When he went to his senior prom, I made sure he had a ½ pint of vodka and a pack of condoms. So, when my world cratered, when my marriage ended in the most humiliating way possible, when the last normal part of my life, my job, became a brown-nosing nightmare, he did what he could to keep me from a nervous breakdown. He fucked me the way I needed it. He fucked me like he cared about me. Not that he wasn't an Alpha Man and didn't take his pleasure from using me. I was still his slave. It was just after noon on Sunday when we got to Master Jess's house. We were barely inside the house when he started stripping me. When we were both naked Master Jess pressed his big muscled hairy body against my back and put me in a full nelson wrestling hold. He is taller than me, so his dick was above my ass cheeks. Some contortion was needed for him to put his cock where he wanted it without letting go of my neck. My spin had to bend uncomfortably backward when he scooched down to get his dick head lined up with my hole. When he plunged up into me it was with the force of a coiled spring releasing. My pussy still had Boss Paul's cum for lube. But Jess's cock was dry. The stabbing pain was intense even in my stretched hole. My survival instincts took over and I struggled helplessly impaled on 9 thick inches of steel hard meat. My feet could not even touch the floor. You can't rape the willing and a Master can't rape his slave. But anyone seeing us would have sworn a big strong young man was raping the shit out of a older weaker man. He bounced me on his dick like I was a fuck doll. I was struggling to suck air into my lungs and could not make a proper scream. While he fucked me standing up, he grabbed and twisted both nipples, he used his muscled arms to help bounce my body on his cock. This was the hardest and roughest fuck I had ever had, and that was saying a lot. The first phase lasted less than 5 minutes then he moved us down to the hard wooden floor. His invading soldier never left me. With my hands pinned above my head, he used his thighs to spread my legs wide for maximum penetration. He still pounded me hard and fast, but he was completely lubed with Boss Paul's cum and his precum at this point. This position was not just better, it was awesome. The full weight of Master Jess's hard body on me and his perfect dick sliding smoothly in my pussy made me groan in pleasure. I started to tell him, but he stopped me. Master Jess: "Shut the fuck up. Take it , JUST FUCKING TAKE IT !" Master Jess can last forever when he wants to. I wanted it to last forever after the pleasure overwhelmed the pain. I loved the feel of his hot hard breathing on the side of my face and the smell of his breath. Too soon he decided to finish. He bit my ear so hard I screamed and struggled again. I fought as hard as I could to get out from under him and the pain, but moving made it feel like he was biting my ear off. No matter how hard I tried to get loose, he had no trouble holding me in position as he fired shot and shot of his cum into my cunt. We laid there for a minute or two before he spoke. Master Jess: "Consensual non consensual play is one of your fantasies, I know. It felt like rape to you at first, and at the climax too. I could tell. I made one of your fantasies come true for you, a little bit anyway. I got off on it more than I thought I would. Definitely doing CNC again, but up the ante next time, more real." It was just after noon on Sunday in Arkansas. That means watching football, so more fucking had to wait and be worked around watching football. It was kind of like old times watching football with Master Jess. There were differences now that I was his slave. I sat on the floor between his feet. He let me talk with him about the game, but I was extremely respectful. Of course I fetched his beer for him and eventually took the beer away in the form of his piss. I have never liked and will never like drinking piss. I don't like the salty ammonia taste. I don't like the way foamy piss makes my stomach do flips. Most of all I don't like being reduced down to a waste receptacle, a toilet. But Master Jess stroked my hair, he looked me in the eye and called me a "good boy". I could tell I was making him happy, and that made up for everything else and I was happy to drink from his tap. Pizza was delivered just before halftime. Master Jess put on gym shorts before the delivery driver came in, but he made me stay on the floor naked. I should have been embarrassed and worried, but after everything else that had happened that day, being naked in front of a stranger with cum dripping out of me was no big deal. Jess knew the delivery guy. His name was Larry. A tall pale lanky man that looked more like a boy. I could tell he was ripped even with his clothes on. Larry: "What's with the naked old dude?" Master Jess: "You kind of know him, that is the fag in the box you have feed your loads too." Larry: "You're kidding? I figured you kept its face hidden because it was some old skank bitch or a ugly as fuck queer troll. No need to hide him, he is not that old and not bad looking, even has a good body for a fag." Master Jess: "More fun if it is anonymous, and I was protecting its secret identity LOL. Not much of a secret now. Want to fuck its face for your tip? I had a second of doubt because he looked like a high school kid, but he had already used me at my glory hole, so he must be 18. Larry had his dick out immediately. He was already getting hard before I wrapped my lips around it. A huge purple mushroom head on a fairly thin white stalk. I guess I had given him several blow jobs through the glory hole, but I wasn't giving him a blow job this time, it was a skull fuck. He held my head tight and moved my face up and down his seven inch rod. His fat cock head felt like a piston seal in my throat. Larry: "So much better than the glory hole. You should make the hole a lot bigger so we can grab the fag's head." Master Jess: "I've thought about it. I could charge more for rim jobs and for fucking its pussy" Larry: "What's a rim job? Wait, what, you're selling his ass too? Fag takes it up the butt?" Master Jess: "I bred the pussy just before the game started. Cunt has two loads deep inside right now. Good pussy. Fag loves getting fucked even more than swallowing cum. You know what a rim job is. It's when a bitch licks and kisses your ass. Your girl doesn't do that for you?" Larry: "Fuck NO! She's not a nasty slut. Damn, I'm close, I'm cumming." Larry pulled back so only his head was inside my lips. When he unloaded, I knew exactly who he was. He was one of my most frequent customers and one of my favorites because of his cum. HUGE loads fired so hard they splattered on the back of my mouth. Thicker than Irish cream and sticker than syrup and tasted like a MAN. He came bigger and harder than even Peter North in the old porn videos. When he jacks off, I bet his load lands on his face and in his hair. What a waste, I didn't waste any but ate it all. Larry: "Thanks, I gotta get going." Master Jess: "Cant stay a minute longer? Don't you want to see what a rim job feels like? On the house." Larry: I'll get in trouble, but what the hell. I've got to know what it feel like" Larry's buns were white and almost hairless, but he had a ring of hair around his reddish ass hole to give off his man scent. He smelled spicy and earthy and good. He gave a little jump when I gave his ass a long lick. He moaned and pushed back when my tongue tip wriggled inside his hole. If this really was his first rim job, it would not be his last. I could feel him jacking off as I French kissed his ass hole. Master Jess: "You need to unload again. Want to fuck the pussy?" Larry: "Oh man, I'm so hard, I need it. Need to fuck this pussy." Master Jess: "OK, but you have to do it my way, like I tell you. Fag Daddy, get over here and back up to my cock. Squat on my big dick and put your feet on my knees and give Larry easy access to the pussy." Once I was impaled on his dick, Master Jess spread his knees and spread my legs wide as he did it. He pulled me back so my back was pressed against his hairy chest. One arm wrapped around my chest holding me tight and one hand over my mouth. Larry: "So do I fuck the pussy after you're done?" Master Jess: "You fuck the pussy NOW. Do it. Spit on your dick and slide it in next to mine. Tightest pussy you have ever had." Larry did not need to be told twice. I think he was too turned on to think straight. I'd been double penetrated several times. I'd had some thick cocks and toys stretch my pussy open wide. But all the other times I was high on whatever drugs my Masters gave me (usually pot and ecstasy) and poppered up too. This was the first time I was DPed with nothing to relax me or dull the pain. Larry was too excited to go slow and easy. He wasn't the biggest I have ever had, but it hurt as bad as any. I screamed into Master Jess's hand as Larry went to town. As always, the pain eased after a bit, and I got the please of being stretched tight with hard throbbing man meat. Master Jess talked into my ear. Master Jess: "You love this. You love every dick that fucks your cunt, but you love young dick best. I am good to my fag daddy, giving you what you need, hard dumb young cock. He's going to flood you with strong young cum. I'm so good to you, Giving you what you want cause you're my good faggot." In a louder voice Master Jess: "Tightest pussy you ever had. Kiss him. Least you can do since he is giving you the best fuck of your life. You're fucking him, so kiss him now." Master Jess had said it like a command, and again Larry did not need to be told twice. He leaned forward and put his tongue in my mouth and locked lips with me. His spit flowed into my mouth. My soft worthless dick was trapped in a stainless steel tube, but I wanted to cum more than anything. Larry got off on it too. His breathing was hard and ragged into my mouth as he unloaded another huge young load into me. Sanity came back to him quickly and he pulled out and was getting dressed fast. Master Jess pushed me off of him and onto the floor. I'm a well trained faggot slave. I got Larry's softening cock in my mouth and sucked him clean before he could get his paints on. Larry: "FUCK DID YOU DO THIS TO HIM AFTER YOU FUCKED HIM?" Master Jess: "You bet I did. I washed his ass juices and my cum off my dick in his mouth. Did you taste me when you kissed his dirty mouth? He has another man's cum inside his pussy too, so you probably tasted him too " Larry: "FUCK, NOT COOL. Not funny dude. You could have warned me. DUDE !" I think Larry wanted to punch Master Jess's light out, but was not nearly big or strong enough to even try. Master Jess: "Yea was kind of dirty of me. Tell you what, the next night you work, you can have Fag Daddy all night. You can have him edge you while you deliver pizza. You can pimp him if you want and keep all the money. Fair? Larry: "Not even close to fair, but I'll take the fag daddy Tuesday night. Customers hit on me all the time. I'll throw the fag at them when they try to get in my pants. You won't tell anyone, OK? Master Jess: "I promise" The game was already back on when Larry left. Master Jess bent me over the back of the couch so we could both watch the game while he fucked me. The only thing better than Master Jess fucking me is Master Jess fuckin me while we watch U of A kick ass. Master Jess slowly fucked me for the whole 3rd quarter. As he was nearing climax, he started talking. Jess: "I planted the seed in Larry. You showed him how good his ass hole could feel when you ate him out. When he was face fucking you, he was sneaking glances at me. Checking out the big bulge I was working in my shorts. He has tasted my meat and sperm, indirectly, but that is all it will take. I'm in his head and my seed is in him. Eventually I'll harvest both his cherries. If you keep being a good fag daddy for me, I'll let you open up his hole and get it wet with your tongue, get his hole wet for my conquering cock." I didn't say anything. I just took the fast hard pounding he gave as he talked about making Larry his bitch. Talked about taking Larry's mouth cherry, taking his ass cherry, about breeding his hole and making it a cunt. Making it his personal cunt. I was horny out of my head as I felt him throbbing and breeding my already cum painted pussy. I warmed up the pizza and we both had pizza and beer while U of A won the game. Of course there was another game to watch after that one ended. I spent the first half of that game laying on the couch with my head in his lap. I could smell the cum and my ass even though I had licked his cock and balls clean. He was ready for more by half time. He had me sit on the floor with my head leaning back on the couch cushions. Perfect position for him to sit on my face. Master Jess had big muscular buns, I literally had to use my hands to pry them apart to get my face between those hairy cheeks, Master Jess's man sent is unique, and It drives me wild. I can't explain or adequately describe it except his ass smells like a man. I loved the way he moved and moaned when I licked the silky smooth insides of his ass hole. Tasted of funk and earth. His ass hole was clean inside and out when half time was over He delayed fucking me to watch the game. I got to edge him and eat his precum for the 2nd half of the 2nd game. When the game was over, he had me ride him till he came a 3rd time that day. All that time edging had him close and he bred me before my legs gave out. I was still horny out of my mind, but Master Jess was satisfied for a while. No more play that afternoon or early evening. About 11, he said it was time for bed. Master Jess: "Chug this down. Master Jeff sent it for you. A faggot shake with all the nutrients and vitamins a fag needs to thrive. You can't live on just cum and my leftover pizza crusts. Chug that mess. I can't believe how much it looks like real cum. Now go take a shower and brush your teeth. I don't want you leaking cum on my bed and don't want to smell your cum/ass hole breath" The shake was a pint or more of liquid protein. Off white and thick like jizz. It smelled like piss bull meat, but had a sweet taste. Of course it was not real cum, but I'm sure it did look like I was chugging fresh cum. The hot shower was awesome. It felt like a gallon of cum came out of my pussy and down the drain. I cleaned myself inside and out. Hot water and soap work miracles. I felt almost fresh and normal after showering, brushing my teeth and a Listerine rinse. I was eager to slide into Master Jess's bed and sleep. Master Jess had other plans before sleep. He had his back against the headboard and his hairy tree trunk legs spread wide. He was soft when I started servicing him again, but he got diamond hard very fast. He is not a kid, but still a young man with a dick that never stays down. Once he is wet and hard, he pulls me up his body till my daddy cunt is over his rod. This time there was no lube inside me and only my spit lube on him. My cunt muscles had recovered and tightened from the earlier stretching. My tight and almost dry hole felt great to him and hurt like hell to me. Master Jess was very good to me, he let me work his huge length into me at my own pace. Forcing about an inch at a time into my cunt then fucking myself for a minute or two before painfully forcing more into myself. I was breathing hard when he was in balls deep. He grins up at me while I impaled myself on his dick. Pleasure was all over his face. I sat on him for maybe a minute before he flipped me over and mounted me missionary style. My legs were wrapped around his waist as he started the best fuck of my life. I could feel the heat for his breath on my ear as he kissed and gently bit my ear. It was intimate, but I knew the gentle bites could go instantly to agony. I never wanted it to stop. Master Jess: "Your pussy feels good. I know your pussy hurts right now, but it's so good on my dick. Good faggot, you only care about my pleasure. My dick will feel great to you soon. Your pussy knows its purpose, opening for my cock and lubing itself for my cock. Spit and pussy juice is all the lube you need or will get. You're milking me without being told. You love my cock massaging your cunt walls. Your pussy is hungry. Your pussy needs to be filled with my babies. You're my 24/7 faggot slave now. Going to keep you here. When you are here, you're going to serve and pleasure me constantly. When you are not sleeping in my bed, you will sleep in your glory hole box on a bed of my filthy clothes waiting for a random cock. You will use your nasty pussy mouth and your cunt to make money for me and Jeff every waking minute of your life. Curt you were made to be owned by men like me. This is your purpose, being a hole for me. You live to obey me and please me. Your pussy is talking to me. It knows its Master. Relax and open that cunt when I'm driving in. When you feel my ball touch your hole, clamp down tight and milk me with your cunt muscles when I pull out. Work that cunt. Make your Master cum." Master Jess set a fast steady pace. He long dicked me, pulling back so only the tip of his fat cock head was inside my pussy lips. I wished for the thousandth time that the cock cage was off, and I could cum. He never stopped telling me I was a good fag, a good cumdump. a faggot made to sever his cock, his bitch. Verbal tops always make me crazy horny, but this wasn't any top, it was Master Jess. I wanted to get hard and feel his hard hairy abs rubbing over my dick and making me cum. The horrible chastity cage wouldn't let anything touch my soft little dick. I concentrated on working my pussy muscles and on the wonderful friction of his chest on my tits. My cunt never felt so good. Master Jess hit all my pleasure spots, playing my cunt lips like violin strings on his thick meaty bow. He fucked me so good for 15 wonderful minutes, then he said one magic word. Maser Jess: "CUM" Right after he commanded me, his tongue started fucking my mouth like his dick was fucking my pussy. My own tongue wrapped around his like a long lost lover. I've never been closer to any one than I was to Master Jess at that moment. My cunt did moved in ways that I didn't know it could do, Fuck it felt so good that it hurt deep in my hole. My prostate and caged cock contracted harder and faster than ever. I was cumming, not just hands free but contact free. Cumming with just my pussy, FUCK, I did not know anything could feel so good. Master Jess had given me my first real fag-gasm. I hyperventilated and made unrecognizable sounds then passed out for a minute. Master Jess was still fucking me when I came to. Maser Jess: "We're not done till I cum. Work your cunt. The day you became my slave, I told you I could make you cum any time I wanted in or out of your chastity cage. Now you know I can and what that means. You're a real pussy now, your pleasure comes from your hole . Your cunt and tits are your only sex organs. Never need to free your worthless dick again. Your caged little dick will shrink to a clit. What is a pussy for? Fucking. What does a pussy do when it gets fucked? Cum. So you know now you are just a pussy. You were always just a pussy, A hole to breed. I gave you the most intense orgasm of your life. The most intense pleasure of your life. Pleasure that good is habit forming, even addictive. You will be my perfect fag slave, please me in anyway, do anything to get me to give it to you again. Every time I make you cum, you'll need it more." He bred me then.. A real man using his cundump for its purpose, taking a real man's load. I was content and so happy, but the need to cum was already building again. Maser Jess: "Lick your fag juice off me then go rinse yourself off again. My sperm is staying in your cunt. There is a butt plug by the sink. Put it in your hungry pussy to keep my little men inside you all night." After I cleaned up again, Master Jess spooned me as we drifted off to sleep. He said one last thing before I was asleep. Master Jess: "See Curt, it is all good. This is the way it was meant to be, You are a real pussy boy now, and cum like a real pussy does. You get to fulfill your purpose. No more pretending or trying to be a man. You are just going to be a good happy pussy that is fucked all the time. You be a good fag for me, Jeff, and Paul, don't worry your horny little mind about anything else." Author's Note: Links to some of my other stories are below. Many parts of my stories are based on my real life experience with artistic license. Some stories are more fictional than others. I love chatting with my readers about the stories and/or the events that inspired them. I am always looking for new real experiences too. New experiences to fuel new nifty stories. I am based in Memphis TN and would love to hear from men who enjoy my writing and/or are interested in the backstories. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/memphis-master/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/picked-up-a-hitcher/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/pussyboy-used-by-father-and-son https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/urination/enslave-boss-after-the-apocalypse/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/dominated-by-boss-son/

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/daddy-faggot-slave/daddy-faggot-slave-17

Date: Sat, 12 Aug 2023 21:59:10 +0000 (UTC) From: Clay Bottom Subject: Daddy Faggot Slave 17 Daddy Faggot Slave Part 17 Donate Please donate to Nifty. This site gives writers and readers a free uncensored place to share our work and enjoy each other's imagination. Most of us get hours of great entertainment here, and we want it to stay around. Use this kink I mean link https://donate.nifty.org/ Disclaimer: This is adult-oriented original fiction depicting explicit and graphic sexual situations between adult men. Things described here may be considered unsafe sex or illegal. These acts are part of a fictional story and are not recommended in real life. By reading this story you are saying you are of legal age to read such material and live where this type of reading material is legal. Feedback: Please send me feedback about my story at clay.bottom@yahoo.com. I love hearing from all my readers, but especially love to hear from readers in the greater Memphis area. Warning: This chapter contains raunchy content in the last few paragraphs. Readers who are offended by raunch may want to skip this chapter Story: Master Jess: "See Curt, it is all good. This is the way it was meant to be, You are a real pussy boy now, and you cum like a real pussy does. You get to fulfill your purpose. No more pretending or trying to be a man. You are just going to be a good happy pussy that is fucked all the time. You be a good fag for me, Jeff, and Paul, don't worry your horny little mind about anything else." My first night sleeping in Master Jess's bed was heaven. I did what he said and didn't worry my little faggot mind with anything, but with morning real-world worries came crashing back. My marriage was over, my job was in jeopardy, and my secret life was an open secret now. I'd been a whore all weekend, and I had the best sex and orgasm of my life, but time to face Monday morning and the consequences. Jess was in a hurry, but he had enough time for me to suck off his morning wood and give me a piss chaser before going to work. I got ready for work after he was gone. I started by removing my butt plug, and painfully passing a foot-long brick of crap. I was left feeling empty and surprisingly clean. The faggot-shake Master Jess ordered me to drink must be more than vitamins and nutrients. It must be a faggot cleanse too. Every waking minute my hole would be for fucking, and when I was asleep, my guts would process food and get cleaned out. Whatever was in the faggot-shake was powerful stuff. It was easy to wash and finger my cunt in the shower, so I was ready to fuck when I got to work. I was so fucking horny, so maybe the faggot-shake had an aphrodisiac in it or maybe it was the memory of how good it felt when Master Jess had fucked the cum out of me. When I got to work, my things had already been moved to a new office in the executive suite. My new office was very near Boss Paul's office. The furnishings were spartan and it was smaller than my old office, but it was "executive" and came with a perk, a key to the executive bathroom. Yea, the building was old enough to be designed that classist way. My office probably belonged to a secretary back in the day when all managers had secretaries. I got a new fancy title and a large pay raise too. I can only imagine and fear what people thought about me getting moved up so far so fast. Boss Paul called me to his office as soon as he arrived. He didn't say anything at first. He pushed his chair back and pointed to his feet. I thought he wanted a blowjob, but I was wrong. When I was on my knees at his feet, he said: "Change my shoes." He was wearing leather loafers and like everyone else here, he changed to safety boots at work. His feet were big just like his cock, maybe size 13. I got a slight whiff of his scent as I slipped off his loafers. I wanted to rub my face on his socks and breath deep. He seemed to read my mind. "Not now. Maybe later if I am feeling generous. You will do this every day. Every morning you will come to my office and drop to your knees without being told. This is one of your new job duties." After I had his boots on his feet and the laces tied, I stayed on the floor, unsure what to do next. He texted someone for about 5 minutes as I kneeled at his feet. "One of your other new duties is cleaning. As I told you yesterday when you were sucking your wife's pussy juice and your ass juices off my cock, you are my cleanup boy. You clean my mess." He stood up after saying that, and the bulge in his pants was at my face. Even covered in pant cloth, I could smell his scent. It did things to my brain. "Open my fly and put your nose in and smell what you will be licking and eating soon. Jeff, the college boy that owns you, sent me pics and videos of the filth you got off on. You're clearly a faggot pig. You're huffing my stink right now, and you're excited. This is the perfect job for you pig." He must have showered today, but the smell coming off his crotch was like an old gym bag full of unwashed workout gear and jock straps. Something else earthy sour too. It was too strong to make sense, but I didn't care. I love it and wanted it. "Do your job faggot. Take my cock out of my fly and get your nose to the tip." His cock was soft and the thick foreskin completely coveted his cock head. It was beautiful but smelled like piss, sweat, and something riper. "I grew this for you faggot. Saved the cleaning of my equipment for your enjoyment. All under the skin for you to lick up. Dried pussy juice from the bitch I fucked last night, dried cum, sweat, the last drops of my morning piss, and the beginning of my cheese cake. Slowly pull the skin back and breathe it in." Fuck he was right. It was so strong, and I could smell all those things. His piss slit was slightly wet. The stink only got stronger as I slowly uncovered his purplish head. At the bottom ridge of his head, a thin bead of white smeg was growing. I huffed and wanted to pull away. Man smalls are a major turn-on for me, but this was too much too strong, too ripe. Some part of my sick brain responded to it though. "That is only from one day. Just imagine how it will be if you miss an opportunity to clean it. Think about how raunchy it will be after 2 days or a week. I will only be washing my cock and balls in your mouth and with your tongue. You should beg me every day to suck my dirty dick clean. Hold my cock in your mouth, don't lick or suck till I tell you. Fucking let my funk fill your mouth. Savor my flavor. Do you like my taste? Get used to it and learn to love it. Your mouth and tongue will be cleaning my nasty parts; it is your job now. " He left me like that for about 5 minutes with my lips gently wrapped around his cock while he took pics and texted. It was even more degrading than being a urinal. At least getting pissed in was fast, It took all I had not to gag. "Use your tongue faggot. Lick my head clean. Coat your tongue with my smeg. Open wide and stick out your tongue. Fuck that is nasty. You're nasty." He used my tongue like a rag and wiped his cock head as he said this. The taste was like the smell only more sour and salty. "Finish the job, suck me. Keep your tongue moving over every spot. You will lick my salty nuts when my cock is perfectly clean." Finishing the job did not take long. Boss Paul got rock hard, but he did not want a blow job right then. He was just using my mouth for a cock cleaning service. He gave me one more new job before he allowed me to get up off my knees. "Faggot, I bet you want me to piss in your mouth now to wash out the taste away. No, you will be tasting me for hours. Faggot, I bet you want my cum too? Cum guzzling slut, I know you do, but not now, maybe later. You can't get enough cum, but I can't have you hitting-on and begging every real man here at work for their loads (I never did that and would never do that), so there is a system to control your feeding. You will find a one-liter beaker on your desk. It is to collect and display all the money you make giving blow jobs. The price to use you is 25 cents. Any man who gives you a quarter is your master till you suck a load from his balls. You will follow him where ever he goes till he points to the floor then you will kneel and give him the best head he has ever had and swallow every drop. When he is done, when his cum is in your stomach, you will tell him "Thank you Sir it was a pleasure to serve you." I better not hear a complaint. If a man does not give you a quarter, he is not interested in your faggot lips or he does not have permission to use you. Do you understand slut?" I understood, but it was hard to hear, hard to take. I started this journey as a curious married man who wanted some slightly kinky summer fun with a college kid and his friends, but now I was a whore for any man and every man who gives me a quarter. Fucking lower than a 2-dollar whore, I was a two-bit whore. The worst part was I would like it every time that I dropped to my knees. How did my mind get so twisted and fucked up? After doing the important part of my job, servicing Boss Paul, I did my regular work till lunch. No man gave me a quarter, so I was thinking maybe it would be a rare thing, and almost none of my coworkers would know about me. Per instructions from Master Jess, I drank a regular body-building protein shake for lunch and spent my lunch hour at the company gym. My masters wanted to see less fat and more defined muscle on their property. Several people were working out at lunch too. I got in a good 45 minutes of fast cardio and weights before heading to the showers. I'd already pulled off my sweat-soaked shorts and shirt when Steve walked up to me. Like me, he was dripping with sweat. He reached out to me and I thought he wanted a handshake, but he placed a coin in my palm. He didn't say a word, just walked away. Wearing only my jock strap, I followed him like a dog to the men's room stalls. Steve is about my height, slightly overweight, and half my age. Not a bad looking guy, but no one's fantasy man. At work, he is a straight laced company man 100%. Getting blown in a men's room is out of character, but I guess he really needed to unload and that is my job now. I know my place and sat on the toilet with my face near his crotch. I was a little surprised at how soft, thin, and short his cock was. But no cock with a quarter rejected, so I sucked and licked to get him hard. His cock and pubs were wet with sweat. I tasted salt and his musk. He was a grower. He quickly grew to 6-7" of steel hard dripping cock. Once he was hard, he took over control and moved my sucking mouth up and down his shaft. Even though he wasn't super big, he was face fucking me hard enough to make me gag. I pushed myself off his cock long enough to whisper "Easy PLEASE! Got to be quiet." The locker room and stall area were far from empty. He completely ignored me and went back to hard face fucking me. I did my best to not gag and be quiet, but I couldn't stop gaging or be perfectly quiet, I was relieved when he showed all the signs of cumming soon, but he pulled me off his cock before his climax. He moved my mouth down to his hairy nuts, and I huffed the wonderful strong smell before licking his nuts clean. All this happened fast. He was in a hurry to cum after I liked his ball, so he fucked my mouth hard and jackrabbit fast. His cum hit the back of my throat like a cannon blast. His cum was thick, sticky, rich, and strong tasting. I loved it. It was so thick it was hard to swallow. I knew I would taste him for a long time. He pulled up his shorts and left without ever saying a word. I stayed in the stall for a minute. I did not know if anyone had heard me gaging, and did not want anyone who heard the gaging to see me come out of the stall. Luckily my cock cage kept my cock under control. Walking around the locker room with cum on my breath and a hard-on stretching my jock would have been too much to take. It might get my ass beaten up too. I did not have time to shower. I could not be late getting back! I was toweling the sweat off my body when Steve came out of the shower naked and told me to follow him he had something I had to see, so I followed him to his locker and was still wearing only my sweaty damp jock. He opened his gym bag. "Take a look at this" In his gym bag were his dirty socks, jock strap, and three rolls of quarters. "You'll work out with me every day at lunch (a statement of fact, not a question). Do you get off at 5? "Yes Sir." Why the fuck did I call him Sir? Especially here. No one told me to. I was a dumb fucking slut. "You might want to wear a towel when you're prancing around here. Your chastity cage shows up nice and clear in your damp jock." I had no reply to that. Damn, how could I be so stupid? Just a stupid cum slut. I got dressed and almost ran to get back to my office on time. Good thing I did, because Gary came to my office almost as soon as I sat down at my desk. I knew why he was there when the closed my office door, and tossed a quarter into my liter beaker. Gary was very tall and had a good body for his age. He was about 55. I worked well with him on many projects and counted him as a friend. I doubted he saw me as a friend at that point. "Knees" Gary sat in my chair and I blew him. He was packing a big pale uncut cock with a purplish head. He was already half hard and pumping precum when I started. I did all the work and was rewarded with a big load in less than 5 minutes. As he left, all he said was "Later". Over the next three hours, I had four more customers. The most memorable was a tall blond young ( ~25 yo) millwright. I never knew his name. He meet me by accident in a hallway and reached out like he wanted to shake my hand, but he put a quarter in my palm. I had no choice but to follow him around. I followed him for about 10 minutes and ended up at the top of a stairway in a shut-down unit. He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down, and I assumed the cock-sucker position. He was very well-hung, cut, and rock-hard when I opened his uniform pants. It was hot as hell in the stairwell and we were both sweating buckets. His crotch had the delicious odor only found on a hard-working man's junk. This was a public place, but my cocksucker's brain only cared about breathing in his scent and licking and sucking his junk clean. He let me lick his cock and balls clean before he fucked my face. Not really a blow job, but just gagging on a long thick cock fucking my throat. I was a warm wet tight hole, and all I had to do is watch my teeth and suck in enough air to stay alive. He did not stop or slow down as he was cumming, so his sperm painted my throat and my tongue. While he was putting away his still half-hard dick, I was wiping fag drool off my face and my shirt, Boss Paul texted me to come to his office. I got to his office very fast, in less than 3 minutes. I did not want to disappoint him, and I feared pissing him off. "You have another job to do today. Go to the washroom and kneel. I used my key to get into the executive washroom, and Boss Paul was right behind me. I didn't know where to kneel so I knelt just inside the door. "Good boy. Crawl over to the bigger stall." There were only two stalls there and two urinals. I figured Boss Paul wanted a bathroom blow job, so I sat on the seat in a cocksucker position. I was so wrong. "Dumb cum hungry faggot, get up and out of my way. I'm going to take a shit. Get on your knees where you belong. You're going to give me a blowkin." I had no idea what that was, but I knew it would be bad, so fucking low and bad. Boss Paul's cock was completely soft but never small. Of course, his foreskin covered this head. "Get your filthy mouth on my dick. Get it all in your mouth. No you greedy cumdump, I did not say to lick or suck. Just hold my dick in your nasty hole and wait." I waited for less than a minute then the first big disgusting fart ripped, and I got a squirt of piss in my mouth. He did not have to tell me to swallow. He wasn't fast. He took a leisurely big shit. His cock stiffened in my mouth, and he was leaking precum between piss shots. Boss Paul was enjoying himself, so I guess I should have been happy, but I just wanted it to be over and breathe clean air. "I fucking love pissing with a hard-on, and I have my own personal toilet, so I can enjoy this every day. Good piss boy. I'm about to finish. Run your tongue over my piss slit while I finish emptying my bladder. Fuck that feels good." I was relieved it was over. I have never liked being a urinal for a man. I just do it when ordered, but this was so much more degrading and disgusting. I know shit does not smell like roses, but having your face near the source of the gas and turds is a whole other level of rank. But it wasn't over. He pushed me back on my ass when he stood up, so I scrambled to get back on my knees. "Do your job, clean me up." I reached for the toilet paper, and he slapped my hand and then my face hard. "You're my brown noser. Wipe my ass with your face then you can clean me inside with your tongue." I lost it and cried and begged him not to make me do this. "Don't give me that crap. Jeff, the 18-year-old who owns most of you, showed me the video of you licking his drug dealer's ass right after he took a shit. That was on the first day you meet Jeff. Don't pretend you don't like it pig. You served as toilet paper for a boy, now you will be toilet paper for a man. He shared with me the fantasy you told him where you get hard licking my shit hole clean and the interns too. You begged Jeff to lick his dirty ass and all his friends in a public men's room. How many men's shit holes have you tongued? Do you even remember? I may make you bob in the toilet for turds for lying to me. I tried to explain while I begged more. I told him that they had got me high out of my mind with some laced pot and ecstasy. I told him how Jeff and Jake had beat me in the playroom. They were squeezing my nuts and showed me a nut crusher vice. I had to do it. They would have literally crushed my balls if I didn't. The fantasy was just nasty talk to amuse Jeff. I'd rimed lots of men, but not like this. Jake was the only time I ate shit. I had to, they were torturing me and I was scared to death. He listened to me try to explain. He record some of my begging on his phone. "Faggot, I believe you. I want to assure you I will not crush your nuts or torture you. You did a good thing telling me how you feel. Knowing how you truly feel will make me enjoy this shit even more. Now be a good pig, Spread my hairy cheeks stick out your tongue, and wipe my ass with your face. Start at your forehead and wipe all the way to your chin. Cleaning my ass with a faggot's face. Washing my shitty ass with a faggot's tears and slobber. Stop for a minute and look up at me, show me your brown face. Lick your lips." Of course, he recorded this. When he thought my face was brown enough, he ordered me back to his ass to lick, swallow, and repeat. I did just that. Shit was mashed into the hairs covering his buns and ass hole, so I had to work with my lips and tongue. When the outside was clean, I suck my tongue inside his filthy shit hole. I never stopped crying, and I wretched a lot. I managed not to throw up. When I did this the first time for Jake, I was scared, extremely high and in a dark dungeon, and a man was squeezing my balls. This time, I was sober, in a brightly lit room, and no one was squeezing my nuts, but I still did it. I had no excuses for what I did. I did not because he told me to and wanted me to, that was it. "Good faggot, this is why I keep you around, all you are good for. I should add this to your job description, professional personal ass liker. You were very good at it too, so I will reward you. Strip and go stand by the mirror." I did as I was told and was naked facing the mirror. "Look at yourself. Look at your face. Who would want to fuck a filthy face like that? Spit on your fingers, wipe, suck clean, and repeat till your face is not shitty." While I was cleaning my face, Boss Paul was fingering and stretching my ass ring. He had three or four lubed fingers inside me by the time my face was clean. I was bent forward and still facing the mirror when his thick long dick slammed into me. I could see my face in pain, then acceptance, and finally faggot pleasure. Boss Paul had his eyes closed, and his face showed his control and pleasure. Long steady strokes like a boring machine reaming hole wider. This could have gone on forever for my part, but we were interrupted when Steve unlocked the bathroom door and stepped inside. He tossed a quarterer at my feet and opened his pants. Steve and Boss Paul matched rhythms as they fucked my holes, For a moment my holes would feel empty and hungry just before being stuffed full the next minute, This was a pleasure and pain for my ass and I loved the precum Seve was feeding me, I wanted my cock to be free so bad, I needed to touch my dick and make myself cum. We were interrupted again when Gary unlocked the door and came in too. He completely undressed and his body was hard and well-built for a man his age, Like Steve, he tossed a quarter on the floor under me. Boss Paul: "Faggot, you have a problem, three customers, and both your fuck holes are full of dick. What will you do about it, If you disappoint a real man, you will be severely punished. I think you mentioned a ball-crushing device earlier." I was too horny to think straight and scared too now, but this was not a hard problem to solve. Me: "Sirs, Please! Please DP me! Please stretch my pussy wide with two big dicks and use my pussy for your fuck sleeve and cumdump. Sheath two big dicks in my straining fuck hole, and fuck my face. Please fill me with cock and cum! Sirs I need all your dicks and loads in me. Sirs please, I need all three of your big dicks in me at once. Please, bend me fold me stretch me. FUCK ME. I did not have to beg long. Boss Paul sat on a padded bench in the washroom, and I sat on his big thick cock and impatiently started ridding him, When He pulled me back so my back touched his harry chest, Gary lifted my feet and bent my legs so my feet were beside my head, My stuffed hole was completely exposed. A few pics were taken, then Gary hocked up several spit wads for lube and forced his big purple cock head in me. I was trying to stay quiet, but I moaned loudly and screamed once when he bottomed out in my pussy. Steve put his hard dripping cock in my mouth to muffle me. The real men were enjoying my holes, and that was what was important. They took their time and were in no hurry to cum. I was moved into several positions and went ass-to-mouth on me repeatedly. For my part, I was in pain, in heat, in ecstasy, in chastity, and on the edge, I more than want to cum, I needed to cum. Boss Paul: "Faggot, your mouth is full of dick, can you still taste my shit in your mouth? I answered without taking Seve's cock out of my mouth. Me: " Yeeas Siurrr" Boss Paul: "Do you love the taste? Do you want to be my personal ass-licker? Me: " Siurrr, It taaests groose and nazzty. Sirra, I wana suurve oou eevebery way to peas uoo. Siurr I wana peas uoo eberywaay " Boss Paul: "Honest faggot. Tells his boss the truth. Good cumdump. You're my eager brown-noser, urinal, and personal shitty-ass licker. You made yourself useful to men by greedily sucking down their loads. I'm feeling so good right now, I'm in a generous mood. Ok men, on the count of three, ram your meat deep into the faggot and hold. 1, 2, 3. FAGGOT, CUM!" It was like a switch was flipped. I had been near the edge for a while, but his one word "CUM" took over my brain and body and my only purpose was to fire as much cum out of my caged cock as humanly possible. I was having trouble breathing, My throat kept convulsing around Steve's hard cock. My cunt muscles undulated, squeezing, and milking the two fat cock filling me. My prostate felt like a nutcracker was squeezing out the last drops of my load, It was the biggest load I had ever shot. Reducing a human being down to a quivering moaning piece of fuckmeat must be a huge turn-on. That and my contracting moving fuck hole muscles brought the men to climax then too. So much cum pouring out of my caged dicklet and so much jizz deposited in both my holes. Cum and slobber dripping from my lips and cum running down my legs. All too soon for me, the big cocks were pulled out of my exhausted body. Boss Paul: "If you keep being an eager obedient pig, you might get the honor of serving three of us again. Did my PAL enjoy being our cumdump? No need to answer, I see the answer on your cummy lips and the pool of cum you are lying in. Mouth clean the dicks and thank the men. Then you can clean this filthy men's room with your tongue. That is another of your new job duties, cleanup boy. Keep the executive washroom clean and shiny. Don't forget to lick out the urinals too. I will inspect your work in the morning. After all that you can leave, go to your brother-in-law, Jeff's, house. He has more work for you to do at a glory hole. Faggot, you fucking love your work." When I finally got to Master Jess's house, he was not home. I stripped naked and drank another faggot-shake that Master Jess had laid out for me then crawled into my glory hole box. I sat on a soft pile of Master Jess's dirty clothes and listened to the soothing white noise that was playing in my box. I kind of zoned out for a while, mindlessly fingering my loose fuck hole and staring at the light coming through the glory hole. Waiting and wanting and needing another cock to come through the hole. I was laser-focused on the glory hole and devoured the first dick to enter the glory hole. I was in a kind of daze all night. The white noise and all the cocks and cum made me feel good and calm. So happy and full. I dozed off for a short time with one of Master Jess's dirty tee shirts over my nose. I awoke when Master Jess knocked on the box. "Rise and shine slut. Time to serve your Master then get to work." Author's Note: Links to some of my other stories are below. Many parts of my stories are based on my real-life experience with artistic license. Some stories are more fictional than others. I love chatting with my readers about the stories and/or the events that inspired them. I am always looking for new real experiences too. New experiences to fuel new nifty stories. I am based in Memphis TN and would love to hear from men who enjoy my writing and/or are interested in the backstories. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/pussyboy-used-by-father-and-son https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/memphis-master/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/picked-up-a-hitcher/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/urination/enslave-boss-after-the-apocalypse/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/dominated-by-boss-son/

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/daddy-faggot-slave/daddy-faggot-slave-19

Date: Wed, 3 Jan 2024 19:36:22 +0000 (UTC) From: Clay Bottom Subject: Daddy Faggot Slave 19 Daddy Faggot Slave Part 19 Final Chapter Donate Please donate to Nifty. This site gives writers and readers a free uncensored place to share our work and enjoy each other's imagination. Most of us get hours of great entertainment here, and we want it to stay around. Use this link https://donate.nifty.org/ Disclaimer: This is adult-oriented original fiction depicting explicit and graphic sexual situations between adult men. Things described here may be considered unsafe sex or illegal. These acts are part of a fictional story and are not recommended in real life. By reading this story you are saying you are of legal age to read such material and live where this type of reading material is legal. Feedback: Please send me feedback about my story at clay.bottom@yahoo.com. I love hearing from all my readers, but I especially love to hear from readers in the greater Memphis area. Story: Like most addictions, my sex addiction, and my pig addiction felt good at first, and I could handle it. I did whatever low-life perverted thing my Masters wanted or the customers demanded. I pleased them or at least my depravity entertained them. Either way, I got the cum fucked out of me regularly. When I was a young newlywed, I didn't cum this much! Sure I was the fuckie not the fucker now, but my orgasms were stronger and longer lasting than any I had when I was young. But as time went on my addiction took its toll. I was thinner than I was in high school. Eating almost nothing but ass, cum, and faggot shakes is a great weight loss plan. I also got less and less discrete. No one actually walked up on me while I was on my knees servicing cock in a stairway, public bathroom, empty conference room, or my office, but it was just a matter of time. Sometimes men would pull me out of my glory hole box for a rim job or to fuck me. My cock-sucker face was no secret anymore. I didn't care as long as I got cock and cum and occasionally got the magic command "CUM!". The magic command made me cum like an animal in rut. But it had to be said by the right man, or at least the right way, I'm not sure. Hearing the word in porn videos or normal dirty talk was not enough. It had to be said in some special way that wasn't obvious to me. I tried to make myself cum with a dildo and give myself the command, but nothing. It was a secret how it worked that my Masters knew and a select few others. I serviced every man as best as I possibly could because it was my job and purpose and I loved it. But the men who could give me the command to "CUM!", I begged them, I begged to be their urinal, to be their ass wipe, for their spit, and to be painfully stretched. I always gave an Oscar-winning performance even when I wanted to puke or cry in pain. If they were generous, I got a minute or two of ecstasy from a mind-blowing orgasm in exchange for days of service, degradation, and pain. That all changed on November 1. My Masters ordered me on a no-nut-November. Load after load went into my holes and was swallowed or absorbed, but no load escaped my caged cock. By the 2nd week of November, the liter beaker on my desk was overflowing with quarters from all the loads I had sucked down. I imagined my body filling up to overflowing too. Every cum shot in my mouth adding to a sea of cum sloshing inside me. Every load adding to the pressure inside me. A normal man trying a no-nut-November could find ways to take his mind off pussy, but I couldn't get away from hard cock. I was a two-hole fag pussy taking dick every day all day. There was always another man giving me a quarter or an anon dick in my glory hole. One day I counted them all, 24 thick loads of cum swallowed and 3 loads fuck up my ass in 24 hours. When I worked as faggot cumdump at Master Jeff's "Ranch", I serviced more dicks than I could count, usually two or more dicks at once, spit-roasted or double-fucked. I knew I had been a good boy when Mater Jeff commanded "CUM!" with my belly and ass full of anonymous cum and my throat and pussy were stretched around cocks. When I serviced cocks, I was on the edge, so close to cumming but out of reach. Desperate and stupid, I sucked and rode dick like a junkie, but with no pay-off, no sweet release, just more pressure building as the cum and hormones soaked my brain. A week before Thanksgiving, my Masters changed everything again. The jars overflowing with quarters were off my desk, and my glory-hole box was gone from Master Jess's garage. I wasn't whored out at the "Ranch" that weekend either. The flow of endless sex that had been washing over me stropped like someone damned a river. My Masters did not have to explain anything to me (just a slave, just an object), but they did. Boss Paul: "You have made yourself a public spectacle. Even the men that you haven't sucked off for a quarter have heard the rumors about a two-bit cumdump engineer. Not hard to figure out who since you displayed two liters of quarters on your desk. Even some of the vendors and customers have heard rumors. You better believe Human Resources has heard stories too. It was loads of fun for you, but it is over now. This is your first verbal warning about sexual harassment. A note will go in your file, and I am requiring you to review the company's no-tolerance sexual harassment policy. I will let you continue to kiss my ass though because you are just too good at it. Master Jess told me something similar. Neighbors and friends had joked that he was running a queer whore house. He was in a way, but it was a small town, and people will only stay willfully blind to that shit for so long, so he was shutting down my glory hole box. Master Jeff had a good reason too. He told me over the phone. Master Jeff: "Daddy, great news! I sold my ranch to an OnlyFans creator. I sold all the other skank-daddies with the ranch, but I'm keeping you. Aren't you proud? I chose you to keep. Your insatiable cute ass-pussy and ass-kissing mouth are what got my Fag-Daddy Ranch going, and made me so much money. The new owners wanted you bad. They would have made you a star, well a well-known popular cumdump at least! No work for you this weekend, rest up till I have a new use for you again. It is a lot for your cum soaked brain to take in? No problem, Daddy does not need to think. The only physical contact I had the week before Thanksgiving was when Master Jeff cuffed my wrists to my collar at night, so I could not touch my tits or ass in my sleep, and when Boss Paul used my face to wipe his ass after he took a dump. Nothing made sense and my world was cratering again. I had done everything right, been a good boy, why was this happening to me? The need to serve, to be useful, to touch a real man was overwhelming enough that I begged Boss Paul to be his ass wipe every day and I meant every word. Since it was a holiday, my wife wanted to keep up appearances, so I was ordered to move back into my former home for Thanksgiving. My real son would be coming home with his roommates, so we needed to act like a normal happy family. My acting skills were put to the test since I was on the edge of a mental breakdown. As sick as it is, I kept thinking about Glenn and his roommates. Kev's furry muscled ass cheeks pressing on my face, Lance's twisted Dom verbal personality. I remembered Lance's low-hanging balls reeked of testosterone and sweat. Of course, I thought about my real son Glenn and his huge dick. I tried to put it all out of my mind, but I wondered, Glenn was so young, has his cock grown even bigger since the first time? Is his body even harder and hairier than when he fucked me months ago? Sick shit to think about, but I was so fucking horny, and Glenn had been so good with his cock, he just knew how to use his long thick club. Glenn and his roomies came into town Wednesday morning. When Glenn hugged me, only my chastity cage kept me from getting a hard-on. He smelled like a man. Kev and Lance would sleep on air mattresses on the floor in Glenn's room. The guest room was filled with Karen's new hobby supplies and wrapping paper. The house was packed with friends and relatives, all men except for my backstabbing wife. The young men were out seeing Glenn's friends or over at his uncle Jess's house all day Wednesday. Thursday was all food, family, and football. On Black Friday I had the house to myself and nothing to distract me from my hungry holes and packed blue balls. Karen and Jess's girlfriend were in Memphis for the sales till Saturday. Glenn and his roomies were already bored with our little town. They went over to Uncle Jess's house. For the first time in months, I was alone in the house I had bought and paid for. The first thing I did was sprint to my son's room and go through the clothes on the floor. It was like I had a new faggot superpower. I could tell the boxers were Lance's from the aroma. I knew Kev's tighty whitey by the piss stains and the black coarse pubic hair. I had to taste the dried piss. The best was Glenn's. Of course, I knew my son's scent; it was half my own. He had fancy red underwear with an enhancing pouch. Not that he needed anything to enhance the look of his long thick dick. I put my nose right in the pouch that recently held his delicious cock and just huffed my son's scent. My dick tried to break the cock cage and my ass milked my fingers as I finger fucked myself. FUCK IT WAS GOOD! But it gave no relief, it just made me feel lower and need cock and cum more. I forced myself to stop after about an hour of inhaling and licking their precum and piss-stained shorts. I put everything back as I found it and tried to distract myself with a game on TV. I kept checking my phone to see if Master Jeff or Jess had texted me. I wanted them, anyone, to use me. I kept imagining being back in the glory-hole box and Glenn and all his friends lined up to feed me their cocks and loads. It was after midnight when Glenn and his friends came back to the house. I was in my room pretending to sleep. They were loud and obviously drunk or high or both. They had scored with one of Glenn's old girlfriends, a slut I guess, she let all of them take a turn. Not a spit-roast or gang bang, but one after the other fucked her in Master Jess's guest room. Like a tag-team wrestling match. Even Master Jess had taken a turn on her. They talked about her like fish meat, just lying there. Not a good lay, but still a warm wet if not night hole. Hearing them talk shit about her after fucking her, made me hate and envy her. The worthless bitch had gotten what I so desperately needed, and she just lay there!? Ungrateful worthless bitch! I got a text from Master Jess. "Come to my house now. Early Christmas present." I almost ran the short distance to his house. Master Jess was going to use me! No, that was not the present he meant. He had just unloaded his balls. Still, the present was awesome. He just pointed at the trash can in his guest room. It was full of used paper towels and smelled like sex, mostly like pussy. I didn't get what he was pointing at first, then I saw a condom. I think my mouth opened a little as I sucked in a breath. Master Jess "Go on. You can have them. I think you actually need them. Take your time and enjoy each creamy cum filled rubber. Ginny just left, too bad, I think she would have let you eat her out. There is pussy juice and cum on the sheets too. Lick and suck that up first, then you can eat the big nuts in the rubbers. We'll make a game of it, and you will guess who's cum you are tasting". Master Jess gave me a whole hour, so fucking generous. There were 6 cum filled condoms. I guessed right on four. Fag-daddy superpower lol. The other two were friends of Gleen I had not smelled or tasted before. When I went home I slept like a baby full of milk. Karen texted that she was not coming home till early Sunday morning, a sick friend was the excuse, tell Glenn how sorry she was, and she bought him something so cool. She was almost as loving a mother as she had been a loving wife. It was good for me, I didn't like playing the part of her loving totally hetero husband, 25 years of that was more than enough. The boys got up very late, and I fixed them a protein-packed breakfast, eggs, bacon, ham, and steak. A little overboard, but it was the holidays and young men needed meat to grow. I was imagining them scarfing down fat and protein to fill their balls with thick rich sperm-filled cum. They went hiking on the Buffalo River after breakfast. They asked me to come along, but I did not trust myself not to do or say something inappropriate. I was a fag-daddy, but I had some self-control left, and he was my real son. When the boys came back, I was shocked to see Master Jeff with them. I should not have been surprised. During the very first weekend he dominated me, he said I shared too much online. That he knew my work, my friends, and even my family. He went to U of A like my real son. Hell, he had rented out a faggot (me) to Glenn for his first anal fuck. They shared whores, of course, they were buds. I held it together when Glenn introduced me to his friend. Shaking Master Jeff's hand like a man was weird since Master Jeff had touched and used every private part of me and I had tasted every private part of him. No one seemed to notice the tension and Master Jeff was all smiles and the perfect young man and guest. It was an awkward few hours. Especially awkward when Master Jeff insisted on helping me make dinner. He grills steaks like a pro. He was fun to be around (for the guys, I was too scared to have fun), charming, funny, and most surprisingly kind. No wonder my real son was friends with my Master Son. Because Master Jeff insisted I not be left out, I even partied with them after dinner. Drinking beer, vaping, and party games. It was the first time I had seen Glenn get high. The drugs and alcohol loosened me up and I had a good time till midnight. That is when Master Jeff pulled me aside and handed me two pills, a white one and a blue one. I knew what they were and it was coming. I pleaded with my eyes and expression not to make me do this, but Master Jeff had tuned crewel, and I had to swallow the pills that would make my cock swell in its cage, my hole quiver and my self-control evaporate. Master Jeff: "Daddy, confession time again. Your sweet son Glenn isn't my friend. He is more like my apprentice. Glenn has spent many days at the Ranch, not while you were there whoring yourself. I have mentored him and so has Jess. We have taught him what he could never learn from you. He learned from us what real men do and are. He will never be a bitch like his father. He uses fuck-holes, he will never be one. You should thank me for doing your job for you, not that you could. I even taught him how to command fag daddies like you. He could make you cum with a word. He has made all my other fag daddies cum on command. He makes them know they're meat puppets for his entertainment and pleasure. You can't imagine the sick shit that your sweet son has made the fag daddies do before he gives them the WORD. Awe, don't look that way. Don't be sad or jealous. You are his favorite. He still talks about how tight you were, how your cunt miked him when he was nutting in you. What he liked best was the sounds you made when you went vice-tight on this big dick when he fucked the cum out of you. Nothing has been in your pussy in days, you must be tight as hell again. I've teased him with some of your short videos. CALM THE FUCK DOWN. I blurred your face. He was too horned up to think straight and recognize you just from the body and hole pics. I promised him another go at you, his first and favorite fag daddy, tonight. The men were Ok with sharing that tiny bedroom because they expect the best fag daddy to sneak into Glenn's room tonight. See, I even have the same mask you were wearing when you rode their cocks, and licked their assholes on that first weekend. Daddy, want to relive old times?" Nothing that Master Jeff does or says should surprise me, but I guess I had been fucked stupid. I must have been a dumb cock whore because I was shocked speechless and my brain did not seem to work. Master Jeff: "Daddy, I can hear the little wheels in your head grinding together. Lay your head in my lap, that calms you down. Breathe and think. I'm giving you something slaves rarely if ever get, a choice. Take your time and smell my nuts. I have not nutted in two days, so they smell full and good to you. Imagine how full those teenage balls are. I have another faggot slave I can send to Glenn's room tonight if you choose not to be his cumdump slave tonight. I won't force you. I will understand if you miss your chance to cum, he is your real son and flesh and blood. But he will be so disappointed if you let him down. You were his first and are his favorite fag daddy. Master Jess is coming over too, so just like the first time. You came three times that night. Which one was the best? When Glenn was fucking you? Don't answer that, just keep your head in my lap and think." Thinking was torture, but that was the point I think. Master Jeff petted my head and that was soothing. My face pressing against his cock and balls felt good too. I loved my Master's musk and sweat. The pills I swallowed were kicking in and could not enjoy the moment for very long. My cock was pulsing in the cage and my pussy lips were flexing. I knew the right thing to do. I always knew, but was so hard to do the right thing rather than what felt good. I stayed still and resisted temptation for almost half an hour. Master Jeff: "Daddy, have you made a choice? Hard for you I know. Be a good Father or a good boy? Be Glenn's Dad or what he wants, his fag daddy? I'll help you decide. I need to text the other faggot slave if you don't want all that teenage hard cock and cum. It is a special occasion and you know you are my favorite too, so I'll be generous. I'll take the chastity cage off you tonight if you give your fag holes to Genn and his roomies of your own free will. You can stoke your seven thick inches constantly while they use you. In fact, I insist. You won't be able to cum unless Glenn gives you the command, but try all you want. Try hard daddy. Show the men you love being their faggot cumdump. So what is it going to be? Beg me now before I text the backup fag. fag daddy: "Please, PLEASE! Let me, PLEASE!" Master Jeff uncaged me for the first time in weeks. It sprang to life as hard as marble. It poured out precum as Master Jeff finger fucked lube into the first couple of inches of my hole. Glenn was awake and rock hard when I quietly slipped into his room. He looked like a giant lying on this childhood twin bed. His cock looked giant too, looked like more than 12", but my faggot brain can't measure. The other men were asleep and I stepped over them to climb on Glenn's bed and straddle his cock. I squatted on him and impaled myself like a bitch. Half his meat was inside me when he grabbed my normal-size 7" hard-on like a saddle horn and bucked his hips up. Almost a dry fuck balls deep. My scream let Kev and Lance know the party had started. Lance: "Don't bogart the faggot. It has two holes and the bottom hole stretches wide enough for two, maybe more." Glenn: "Wait your turn. Too tight and too good to stop now. I got to get a quick nut in it and then you guys get a turn. We got all night to use this pussy. So fucking good. Good hole made for my cock. Perfect for my cock. You like it? Like when I pop in and out of you? Busting open the pussy." I was moaning like I was in pain, and I was, but felt so natural and good too. Like his big cock was made for my hole. He did not insist I talk, and I didn't. Who really wants to hear a faggot talk? Glenn never let my cock go for the two minutes he pounded his cock into my ass. I never stopped moaning either. I wanted to beg for more lube, real lube, spit, vaseline, anything, but I didn't say a word. There was enough lube in me to feel great for Glenn, tight with lots of good friction. My muscle ring felt like it was being pulled out of me on every backstroke. There was enough light in the room for me to see my son's cum-face as he emptied his nut in my hungry hole. I should not know what my son's face looks like when he cums. I loved seeing the ecstasy on his face and knowing I made him feel that good. Huge load ejecting into me for maybe a minute. He stopped bucking, but I milked his cock with my cunt muscles and rode his dick from balls to head till the last drop. My hole was sloppy wet and never felt better. Glenn: "Suck it. Suck it clean faggot. Taste my cum and your ass. Taste good? Bet it tastes like shit. Lick it all, balls too. Faggot loves my dirty dick. It has a big ole hard-on. Turn the slut sideways on the bed, all fours. Both holes will be at the perfect crotch level. Spit roast it. I'll text Jeff. Run a train on it. Lance: "It's going to lick my ass hole first. Only ever had that done for me once and this faggot did it, Did it good and deep. Three days without a wash just for the ass licker. My funky ass hole itches. Scratch it for me, Dad. Scratch with your tongue. Inside too. Make the nose, like you did the first time. Wet smacking French kiss." Kev slid his cock up my now well-lubbed ass as I kissed Lance's ass. I love getting fucked more than anything and the pills just made my hole more sensitive and hungry. I was using one arm to hold myself up so I could jack-off with the other. Lance's hole was one of the best-tasting I had ever eaten. Not funky, but aromatic. I made lots of noise for both of them but didn't talk for obvious reasons. Kev did not last long, and Lance was ready to nut in me too. They swapped positions so I could ass-to-mouth Kev while Lance took sloppy 3rds. Kev: "Jeff showed me a video of the fag begging to kiss all of his friends' assholes. He begged for this too. Begged Jeff to get his friends to fuck him ass-to-mouth. Hard dick does not lie. He fucking loves this sick shit. No lie. I did love this sick shit. I loved it even more that night because my dick was hard and free. Getting fucked is even better when I jack off. Jeff and Jess joined the party, so a dick was always hard and ready for my cunt. When I was not sucking dicks clean, or swallowing cum, I was licking a real man's ass. Every man had cum at least twice when Glenn was ready for the best part. Fag pussy is tighter when it is double stuffed. Master Jess was the anchor like he was on the first weekend I was a whore, the first time I was double fucked, the first time I was used by my real son. Made sense, he had a long dick, he was the oldest, and he had the best staying power. I was lying on my back on top of his chest. Lance and Kev were holding my legs high to give Gleen a clear view and easy access to my wet cock filled hole. Glenn: "I'm going to be the first one to DP you and the last too after all my buddies have bred you. Going to destroy your pussy. Jeff will have to get your pussy retread after I'm done wearing it out. My big dick feels good, doesn't it? Going to hurt when I'm done." It hurt right away when he slammed it home in one motion, but it felt good soon. Master Jeff was standing near my head and filming it all. Master Jeff: Daddy, what did I tell you? What did I say you had to do when I took your cock cage off? Your slut brain is overloaded, think." I remembered and jacked my cock like a horny monkey at the zoo while Glenn and Master Jess fucked me at their own pace. Master Jeff let me lick the precum off his cock head too. I was serving both my Masters and my real son all at once. I was so close to cumming but just could not make it over the edge. It was just the perfect number of men to DP a slut. Two men to fuck me and two men to hold my legs, and one man with his cock in my mouth for sucking clean and to film the sick shit I was getting off on. Five verbal dom men and one cumdump slut. If you have not lived through it, you can not know how good it feels to be DP fucked, degraded, and kept on the edge for almost two hours. A marathon for a faggot slut. My heart was pounding for the whole time and my dick was sore. I kept jacking off. Glenn mounted me for his 2nd and final turn DPing me. Glenn: "Unkle Jess, you taught me to double fuck a fag when it's pussy is too loose to fuck. What do I do when it has two big dicks in it, and it is still too loose? I know! Kev, look in the nightstand. I got a toy for fag daddy." Oh fuck! A giant vibrator shaped like a dragon dick. Insane thick ridges, nodules, and veins. It was 10" long and 2.8" at the base. The head was shaped wrong, more like a horse's than a human's. Humans aren't meant to get fucked with monster dildos. The look on my son's face, the look in his eyes. A monster, not my son at that moment. I tried, I tried hard to get away, but Master Jess had my arms looped inside his. Cum was forced out of my hole as the plastic monster was pushed inside next to two real dicks. The air had left my lungs, so I couldn't scream. It felt like my ass was tearing when he forced the last inches inside me. Glenn stroked my hard cock and work my nipples and started the dildo vibrating at high speed in my overstretched hole. Glenn: "Unkle Jess, pound it with me. Fuck the cum out of the fuck meat. Want to hear it whimper again when we fuck the cum out of it the first time." Was too much stimulation for all three of us. Lasted less than a minute. My son gave me what I desperately needed. He commanded "CUM!" My orgasm seemed to go on forever. My wrecked cunt muscles still miked the cocks fucking me and the vibrator. It was the second orgasm for Master Jess and Glenn, but they both seemed to cum gallons. Master Jeff: " Glenn, was the fuck good, was the faggot everything you hoped for? Eager enough? Horny enough? Nasty enough? Glenn: "SO GOOD! Sell it to me. I'll pay. Fuck my college fund." Master Jeff: "Good daddy. But you shot cum all up on your face and on your mask. Your mask is dirty anyway. Your mask is shitty actually. Let me help you with it. Glenn, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to my fag daddy slave, your Dad." It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The mask came off in a quick easy motion. Master Jeff smiled down at me. Kev and Lance said something loud. I was seeing and hearing, but nothing was computing. Too awful to take in. Shock was the first thing on Glenn's face then embarrassment then rage. He bitch slapped me so hard my ears rang but I heard him command again, "CUM!". I did. He was raping my hole and I had to cum. Cum hit my face again and my open mouth. My cock was still dripping my 2nd load when Glenn gave me the command the third time. My body could not take it. I blacked out while cumming. I woke up to Glenn bitch slapping me with both hands. Then the command to "CUM!" Came a fourth time. Master Jess managed to get this cock out of me along with the monster dildo. Glenn wouldn't stop. He just kept fucking and hitting me. With his open hands and fists. Master Jess and Glenn's friends got him off me. I did not see Master Jeff in the room. Kev: "STOP! You have to STOP! If you make him cum again he'll stroke out or his heart will explode. Dude look at him! You are killing him. This is not what you want!" Lance and Master Jess talked him down too, but Kev was the one who seemed to get through. I just gasped for breath while they got my son out of the room. When I could walk, found my clothes in my living room. Cum soaked my jeans as I walked out to my car. I didn't know where I was going. I had no place to go. The only real monster I saw that night was Master Jeff, and he was waiting by my car. Master Jeff: "Daddy, you are in no shape to drive. Give me your keys. You are coming to my cabin." He had rented a place above the White River, not a short drive, so he had time for exposition. Master Jeff: "Confession time again, The pills I gave you tonight were sugar pills, not Viagra and ecstasy. Your rock-hard dick and dick-hungry fag pussy were 100% natural. I'm older than you think and not a Chem E undergraduate. I'm just finishing my research for my doctorate. Tonight was the last experiment of some of the best research that will never be published. I'll still get my doctorate, but my research is already classified. The degree isn't the most important thing to me. My research is my passion, and my research is my application to join a certain covert organization." fag daddy: "You mean the CIA, You are a spy?!" Master Jeff: "Not the CIA but something more covert, deeper. I'll be more of a researcher and handler than a lowly spy. My recruiter is interested in you too. He thinks a whore of your talents could be good bait in honey traps. You were my most successful test subject. I added the compliance drug to your coffee the first day we met, and a few minutes later you were on your knees in a public restroom begging to lick my dirty ass clean in a public place. I knew then my compliance drug worked on human subjects. With just a little coercion and torture, I made your lick fresh shit off Jess's ass that same day. Stronger proof I had broken you to my control. The strongest proof was when you came multiple times while Jess and Glenn were fucking you. You were a good Dad before you met me, so making you cum hands-free while you were molesting your own son proved you were completely broken. I can make you do even the most abhorrent things and make you love it. It wasn't just the drug I developed. The conditioning recordings I made you listen to are essential too. The recordings have been subliminally mind fucking you since the very beginning and played constantly in your glory hole booth too. The fag shakes you drink every day are drugged of course. I don't think I need to drug you anymore; I think the changes are permanent now. Daddy, say something. A lot to process, but say something." fag daddy: "Why?! I never hurt you. Why me? Why do this?" Master Jeff: "Like I told you, research. Nothing personal, I like you, but you made yourself my test subject when you agreed to meet me in Eureka Springs. You were my first of several test subjects and controls. You are my last test subject and best. None of the others escaped my control, but some just broke and became useless, I discarded those The combination of conditioning and drug cocktail and your mind was perfect. A high-functioning professional and a cocksucking cumdump slave all in one test subject. Your professional work barely suffered even when you were sucking off most of your co-workers daily. That is why I want you to take the offer the organization makes. You don't have other good options. You will lose your job here and the rumors will keep you from getting any other job in your field. Your wife is divorcing you and will take everything. You're a known sex addict and whore, so she has grounds. You are too old to find a new profession and overqualified for low-paying jobs. Your son Glenn would buy you from me if I am willing to sell. Knowing you are his real Dad won't slow him down. He will have something to prove though, which would make him even harder and cruel to you. You know he wants a full-service toilet? On the plus side, you would get all the young hard cock and cum a faggot can swallow till he graduates. The organization's offer is your only good option. They will give you a new name, change your looks some, and give you a chance at a semi-normal life. Your full-time job would be at a state-of-the-art pilot plant making and improving the very drug I used to make you a cumdump slave. I'm not sure you were gay when you met me, but I made you not just gay, there is not really a word for what you are, I made you unique. You have had the best sex of your life since I changed you. You have loved being a cumdump whore and my slave. Don't bother to deny anything. I know you, I made you. From now on, I won't pimp you anymore, but I won't ignore you either, I'll still fuck you sometimes. When the organization needs your faggot skills to blackmail or trap a target, you will get to go back to cumdump whore mode. You'll get to help me condition and break bad guys too. Make them faggot puppets like you who will do anything for me. We will make 100% straight strong real men lick my balls, lick my ass, suck cum from my balls, spread their cheeks, and beg for more. I will even make them submit to you and let you fuck and breed them" fag daddy: "You are working for the good guys, right?" Master Jeff: "Absolutely, we are the good guys, trust me." That night I slept in an evil genius's bed. Maybe a sociopath's bed. He spooned me like a lover. Even after the ultimate betrail and the horrible confessions, he felt so good next to me. I guess I'm just programmed that way. The next morning I accepted a generous new job offer. Like I had a choice. I lost control of my life months ago when I answered his ad for "Sub Daddy Dom Son Role Play", I was just seeing what was out there, harmless fun. I never meant for anything to really happen. I never thought he would pic me or we would meet in person. Just a harmless fantasy. This is a cautionary tale. Closet case Daddies be warned. Thanks for reading the story and making it all the way to the end. This is the last chapter in Fag Daddy's story. Daddy could not sink much lower and his situation was not sustainable. I wanted to tie some loose ends up and give Jeff a motive for destroying Daddy's life. It is as close to a happy ending for Daddy as I could imagine. Hey, at least the sex was great for him. I may write a new series centered on Glenn or Jeff in the future. Maybe "I Was a Fag for the CIA" or "Have Faggot Will Travel" or Dr Fagmaker". Hope you enjoyed the story. Author's Note: Links to some of my other stories are below. Many parts of my stories are based on my real-life experience with artistic license. Some stories are more fictional than others. I love chatting with my readers about the stories and/or the events that inspired them. I am always looking for new real experiences too. New experiences to fuel new nifty stories. I am based in Memphis TN and would love to hear from men who enjoy my writing and/or are interested in the backstories. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/pussyboy-used-by-father-and-son https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/memphis-master/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/picked-up-a-hitcher/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/urination/enslave-boss-after-the-apocalypse/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/dominated-by-boss-son/

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/daddy-faggot-slave/daddy-faggot-slave-18

Date: Sun, 10 Sep 2023 10:05:27 +0000 (UTC) From: Clay Bottom Subject: Daddy Faggot Slave 18 Daddy Faggot Slave Part 18 Donate Please donate to Nifty. This site gives writers and readers a free uncensored place to share our work and enjoy each other's imagination. Most of us get hours of great entertainment here, and we want it to stay around. Use this link https://donate.nifty.org/ Disclaimer: This is adult-oriented original fiction depicting explicit and graphic sexual situations between adult men. Things described here may be considered unsafe sex or illegal. These acts are part of a fictional story and are not recommended in real life. By reading this story you are saying you are of legal age to read such material and live where this type of reading material is legal. Feedback: Please send me feedback about my story at clay.bottom@yahoo.com. I love hearing from all my readers, but especially love to hear from readers in the greater Memphis area. Story: When I finally got to Master Jess's house, he was not home. I stripped naked and drank another faggot-shake that Master Jess had laid out for me then crawled into my glory hole box. I sat on a soft pile of Master Jess's dirty clothes and listened to the soothing white noise that was playing in my box. I kind of zoned out for a while, mindlessly fingering my loose fuck hole and staring at the light coming through the glory hole. Waiting and wanting and needing another cock to come through the hole. I was laser-focused on the glory hole and devoured the first dick to enter the glory hole. I was in a kind of daze all night. The white noise and all the cocks and cum made me feel good and calm. So happy and full. I dozed off for a short time with one of Master Jess's dirty tee shirts over my nose. I awoke when Master Jess knocked on the box. "Rise and shine slut. Time to serve your Master then get to work and offer your holes to every Man with 25 cents.." My new life had started when my wife and boss made me a cuckold and hollowed out my marriage into just a decorative shell for appearances. I was only allowed in my former home when my wife needed me to play the happy devoted husband part, or for one of her lovers to humiliate and use me while she watched. My boss fucked me and my wife on a regular basis. He insisted I be there when he fucked my wife to clean up the mess he made of her cunt and clean off his cock. On most weekday nights, I slept at my Master and brother-in-law's house, rarely in his bed with him and often in my glory hole box. Master Jess wanted me in the box all night to be available to service customs whenever a customer wanted to unload. I was a cheap hole to use, but I was used so often, that the money added up to be substantial. Even when I fall asleep in my box, I dream of sucking dick and taking cock up my ass. I dream of being spit-roasted by every man at work on top of my desk. I dream of being spit-roasted by every man at my church. Of course, I dreamed of being spit-roasted by the young football players I used to coach. I even dreamed about being young again and being spit-roasted by both my team and the opposing team at mid-field. Every minute of the day, I was servicing real men or waiting for a cock to service, or dreaming about an endless line of cocks to be satisfied. That was my life, a hole for hard throbbing cocks. On weekends I worked at Master Jeff's "ranch". Master Jeff always got me high, so I had no inhibition or restraint when I was servicing the guests. All ages, races, and body types, I service their cocks like am starving for meat. I am surprised how many men, especially young men, want to humiliate, whip, and use some man who looks something like their professor, their coach, their boss, or even their Dad. They pay to live out the fantasy, but my body and mind pay a price too. Nothing puts your personal bully in his place better than whipping his ass while you breed it. Well, making your "dad" your urinal is more degrading or making him kiss your ass hole. A lot of men want me to beg them for abuse, brutal fuckings, rim jobs, piss, etc., but many others just want an enthusiastic wet hole to cum in. Whatever a man wants, I do my best to provide. I'm close to cumming all weekend, but only get off if Master Jeff commands me to. That is not guaranteed at all. I have to be a perfect fag daddy, wallow in filth, or accept a lot of pain to get his approval. I'm not sure I have limits when I'm with Master Jeff, I think maybe I would do whatever he commands for the chance to cum hands-free for him. There were breaks in the routine, but sucking cock was a constant. Master Jess had promised the pizza boy Larry that he could use me and sell me on Tuesday when he was delivering pizzas. The first surprise of Tuesday night, was Larry getting pulled over by the county sheriff. "License and registration" "Yes Officer" "Larry, you know why I pulled you over. I see you have an adult driver with you today, good. Like I told you last time, you can't drive with a learner's permit without an adult, even if your dad does work for me. You're a good kid, but rules are rules. Drive save." FUCK! LARRY IS UNDERAGE AND HIS DAD IS A COP! I'm so totally fucked. On the bright side, I'd get limitless cock in jail. I kept calm somehow till the Officer let us drive away. "Fag, see you're useful to me in more ways than one, but now I need to use your mouth again. Don't have to tell you twice. That's it, suck me off before the first delivery. I can cum really fast when I want to. I've been unloading almost all my cum into you for weeks. I need to cum a least 2 or three times a day or go crazy. I use your mouth before school and right after school too. Sometimes I skip class to use you through the glory hole. I use you late at night too. I sleep so good after you suck my cock dry." A cheap cum dump of a horny high school boy. Fuck, a new low for me. I fucking love young dick, but I never sucked off an underage cock, or so I thought. A Cop's kid too. No way this will end well. I needed to think of a way out, but when Larry's cock was back in my mouth, all I could think about was making him cum. Larry sold my holes 5 times that night. Twenty dollars for a blow job, 25 dollars to fuck me safe, 30 dollars to fuck me raw, and 50 dollars for anything goes for thirty minutes. Men in rural AR, are mostly down low, so Larry made me wear a blindfold every time before he rang the customer's door. By the end of the night, 6 (I got spit-roasted at one stop) more men had seen my face and fucked it. Six more men knew I was a filthy cum guzzling perv, and I never saw their faces. Larry fed me twice more too, but he seemed more interested in my ass. He fingered my cummy hole while driving around. His cock was in my mouth, so I could not see his face, but I think he smelled and maybe even tasted his finger and the cum inside me. Larry's night ended at Master Jess's house with a long sloppy rim job followed by a facial. I made love to his hole with my tongue like it was a pussy. He had a day's worth of funk and sweat in his crack. I licked it up like syrup. When my tongue slipped up into this teenage ass hole, I felt and tasted his last shit. I should have been grossed out, but his moans and obvious pleasure spurred me on to lick deeper and faster. When he could not take it anymore, he shot his wad on my face and in my mouth. Master Jess was really pleased when I told him how the night went. Neither of us had any doubt that Master Jess would take the kid's virginity. Larry had already learned how good my tongue felt inside him. Master was just waiting for the boy's birthday. Larry was going to get what he always needed and wanted but never knew, a thick long cock in his horny ass hole on his eighteenth birthday. Master Jess was pleased enough with me to give me a big treat, his cock. Nothing compares to my need to please one of my Masters, I live for it. Master Jess's pleasure that night was to fuck my sloppy cummy hole with his big dick and a long thick vibrator at the same time, double penetration. I won't say that being stretched almost to the tear limit is not painful, but I can't say it was not a pleasure either. When he was ready to unload his balls, he said the magic command "CUM", and I did, hands-free, locked in chastity, my dicklet fired volleys of jizz. My grasping undulating cunt muscles milked Master Jess's balls dry. My orgasm was even stronger and more intense than the last. Pleasure so strong it almost hurt and just kept coming. Afterward, I wanted to sleep next to him, but he told me to get in my box. My glory hole box smelled like Master Jess's dirty clothes and random cum. The scent and the white noise that is always playing in my box made me feel calm and still somehow horny. I watched the light coming from the glory hole and waited hungrily for the next cock and load. I had just had one of the strongest orgasms of my life, but it wasn't enough. I needed more cock to give me more cum. Another notable break in my new cumdump slave routine was a weekend in Saint Louis. I was sold for the weekend to an older thin dom white man. He had seen a video of me licking Boss Paul's ass clean after a shit. I have no idea how many times my amateur videos have been viewed or how many men have watched me perform. Master Jeff said the customer was both disgusted and turned on watching me "eat it like ice cream". He just had to see what it felt like. I didn't know the man at all but was ashamed that he had seen me and been disgusted by me. Master Jeff: "I showed him the video of our first meeting too. The video where you knelt down in a public toilet and begged to lick my ass hole and my friends' asses too. Remember? I told you I was going to go ass-to-mouth on you all weekend long, and you begged me to get my buddies to fuck you ass-to-mouth too. For a price, he and his friends are my best buddies now. He has requested something special. He wants your ass au natural, no douching or prep of any kind. Start eating a normal diet instead of the faggot-shakes on Friday. Enjoy eating real food, you will taste it again when you suck their cocks clean." The weekend started in a luxury downtown hotel. He wanted a massage first (regular message). That was followed with a great meal at "The Hill" The diner would have been romantic if I wasn't a paid faggot pig. After dinner, he had me kneel in the hotel shower and open wide for his piss. He rinsed his piss off me before fucking me like a dog on the tile floor. The only lube was one wad of spit, so his thick 7 inches hurt as he slowly forced my hole open. Once he was coated in my ass and somewhat lubed, he fucked me hard and fast. I could smell my ass and wanted to fucking die, humiliated like a little boy who crapped his pants, but it did feel good too. He unloaded in me pretty fast and his cock felt great inside me. "Lick me clean. Don't cry baby, I'll get you more dirty cocks after you finish with mine. DO IT NOW, or I'll send you back to your owner and demand a refund. So you like being forced? Good pig. Suck like a baby pig. GODDAMN, you're a nasty pig. Do you like it? I bet my cock tastes like shit. I'm going to take a big dump soon then you can taste my shit too while you French kiss my ass hole. You will love that. Your owner told me and showed me how much you love eating dirty ass. You'll love my shit when you worship my ass hole. Want me to fart in your mouth? Beg for it piggie. I did just what he said I would do. He found two more men off a bareback app to play in my muddy cummy hole too. I did not even try to resist but wallowed in filth like they wanted. There should be a word worse than humiliated to describe what he and strangers did to me. When he let me shower and rinse my mouth, I almost cried. The next night was similar to the first but in a bar in East Saint Louse. The first floor was a big clean bar with a stage for drag shows. The basement had an after-hours bar. The basement looked almost like a neighborhood bar with pool tables and shuffleboard on one side but with a large dark alcove on the other side. There was an 8-foot metal urinal trough against one wall. There was a full-length mirror above the tough and all the way across. Not a bar for pee-shy guys, and clothing was optional and not encouraged. My temporary owner stripped me as we arrived. After 3 AM the place got busy, and that is when he bent me over a pool table and slowly fucked me. This fuck was almost dry too, so I was in obvious pain even as I submissively took his cock. He was extremely verbal and put on a great show for about 20 minutes before breeding me. He had his dirty cock going down my throat when he said to the crowd "Try out the hole. Tight and I already lubed it for you." Not my first gang-bang by a long shot, but my first in a totally public place under the bright lights of pool tables. The place closed at 5 AM, and the men were done with me a little before that. He saved the best (worst?) for last. I was lying on my back with a big anonymous cock fucking my cum dripping dirty ass hole, Some other dude was using my face and tongue for an ass wipe. His muscular hairy ass crack was nearly smothering me and not even remotely clean. My temporary owner said the magic command. "CUM" It was the first time I had ever cum hands-free for anyone other than one of my Masters. Every man in the bar cheered as I moaned into the ass hole on my face and my hole clamped down on the fat cock using my ass. "Good Pig " I had become a dumb faggot addicted to the mind-bending pleasure of cumming hands-free. I didn't give a shit if the chastity cage was on my worthless dick or not, my cum came from deep inside me, and cumming was all that mattered. The pleasure had a price, I didn't care. Dignity, yeah right, I gave that away months ago. The price was pain, sure, but lots of men had hurt me for months too. Being a good pig, an enthusiastic begging pig without limits, that was the price. After I had cum, in the few minutes of post-orgasm sanity, I could see what I had become and see no way out. In a very few minutes, I wouldn't want out. All I would want is the next cock and the next high, and to cum at any price. Author's Note: Links to some of my other stories are below. Many parts of my stories are based on my real-life experience with artistic license. Some stories are more fictional than others. I love chatting with my readers about the stories and/or the events that inspired them. I am always looking for new real experiences too. New experiences to fuel new nifty stories. I am based in Memphis TN and would love to hear from men who enjoy my writing and/or are interested in the backstories. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/pussyboy-used-by-father-and-son https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/memphis-master/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/picked-up-a-hitcher/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/urination/enslave-boss-after-the-apocalypse/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/dominated-by-boss-son/

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/master-tim

Date: Sun, 10 Nov 2024 16:49:47 +0100 From: Sarcastic Sword Subject: Master Tim Part 1 Master Tim Part 1 I hope you are enjoying my work. If you like it let me know at sarcasticsword@mail.com. It always helps to have some feedback. If you have emailed me in the past and not gotten a response it was because it went to my spam folder. I am checking that on a regular basis now. Who knows if you're interested I might even write a story about your fantasies, that's how some of these stories cum about. LOL I answer all emails that I am aware of. If you want to help support me you can support me through KoFi (https://ko-fi.com/sarcasticsword) Speaking of payment, if you are able to help support Nifty.org please donate what you can. Master Tim Part 1 Well Tim and I were finally going to meet. We'd met online and although we were only an hour and a half apart, he had been in Europe on a business trip for three weeks. He's just gotten home and I was heading over his house to meet for the first time. It would be the first time for us to meet, but it seems like we've known each other forever. We just really seemed to hit it off online, but that's not the same as in person. I was carrying a Tupperware bowl, containing the dinner that I'd brought for us. I'd also brought a couple of bottles of Straub beer for each of us. I walked up to the front door and pressed the doorbell button. I heard it ring and in about 10 seconds Tim answered the door. He reached out to shake my hand only to realize my hands were full. "Great to meet you Mike. Here let me grab some of that stuff." He said taking the soft-sided cooler with the beer in it. He led me into the kitchen and we set the stuff down on the table. As soon as we put the food on the table he swept me up in a hug and slapped a lip-lock on me. I felt like I belonged in his embrace, it was firm and possessive, and I melted into it. My mouth surrendered to his tongue, he was making it clear that he was the aggressor, and I was fine with it. In all of my past relationships I'd been the dominant partner, but at this point in my life I was willing to relinquish it. He was holding me close to him and I could feel his manhood rising against me. Hopefully that would be what I would be getting for my desert. He was a couple of inches taller than me, which reinforced his position of dominance. It was a completely different experience for me. We eventually broke the kiss and I was looking up into his brown eyes. I finally spoke, "Well Tim, that was exhilarating. Hopefully I'll live up to your expectations." "I think you already have." He said winking at me. Do we want to get the food ready? I'm starving. What did you surprise us with?" He asked. "Well you said you liked seafood and this is my dish that travels and microwaves well. I brought some Cheddar Bay Biscuits, like they have at Red Lobster. And then I made my seafood pasta. It is shrimp, scallops, langostinos and crab meat sauteed in garlic butter and then broccoli, cauliflower and carrots also sauteed in garlic butter. That is then mixed into tricolored rotini pasta." "I also brought some Straub Lager to wash it down. It's a microbrew from St. Mary's PA, that's been brewed there since 1872. I hope you like it." I replied. "Where's your microwave?" "It's over here." He said, leading me over to the kitchen counter. I put the bowl in the microwave for three minutes, it only needed reheated not cooked. Tim set the table and got some frosted mugs out for the beer. I pulled the seafood pasta out of the microwave and put the biscuits in for 20 seconds, just enough to heat them a little. I took them to the table and used a big serving spoon to dish out some onto Tim's plate and then filled mine. I set the plate of biscuits on the table between us. Tim had already poured the beers into the frosted mugs. I waited for him to take a bite of it, watching him closely for his reaction. He chewed for a moment then swallowed. A smile came to his face. "This is really good!" he said, then took another bite. "Thanks." I replied before taking a bite of mine. We continued eating and after getting the edge off of our hunger we started filling each other in on the holes in our histories that we hadn't gotten to in our online chats. We finally finished our dinners. Tim loaded our dishes into the dishwasher and we walked into the living room. We were standing in front of the couch, when he pulled me into another possessive embrace. Soon we were passionately kissing. I could feel his After a moment I broke away from him. "What's wrong?" He asked, a hurt expression on his face. "Nothing's wrong. But I want desert now." I said as cupped his package in my hand through his trousers. I dropped to my knees in front of him, his manhood at eye-level. I unbuckled his belt and then unbuttoned his trousers, it was time to catch a trouser trout. I pulled them below his knees and let them drop to the ground around his ankles, then I pulled down his underwear, exposing the most beautiful uncut cock that I'd ever seen. "Seeing you on your knees like that is so fucking hot!" He exclaimed with a dominant grin. I didn't answer. I wrapped my hand around it. It was not quite completely hard yet, but I intended to fix that. I ran my hand up and down his boner, making his foreskin cover and uncover his glans. With each stroke he became harder. He was bigger than anyone I'd ever been with before, so I'd have to figure out just how far I could go with it. I pulled his foreskin forward and took him into my mouth. I worked my tongue into his foreskin and started working it around his glans. It's always informative how much slicker and more velvety an uncut dick head is than a circumcised one is. I felt him grip the back of my head as he slowly started to thrust his manhood in and out of my mouth. I was more than willing to let him take charge. I reached up with my left hand and cupped his heavy ball sack. They were large like his cock. This was definitely a real man who I'd have no trouble submitting to. I was going to make sure that I swallowed every last drop when he emptied those big balls. I wasn't too worried about his length. Even though he was longer than any of my previous partners, it was the thickness I was a little worried about. Would I be able to take him down my throat. He hadn't tried to push the issue, his thrusts were stopping before entering my throat. But I wanted to know if I could do it. So I reached up with my hands, grabbing one ass cheek in each hand and holding him steady while I slowly slid my mouth down his impressive cock. It hit the back of my throat and I tilted my body so it was a straight shot down my throat. Pretty soon the head of his cock was entering my throat. I continued to work my way down his cock until his balls came to rest against my chin. "Fuck! I can't believe you swallowed the whole thing!" I pulled my head back, took a quick breath and then took him balls deep again. After about four of five swallows, I could tell that he was getting close. I didn't want him to cum down my throat, I wanted in my mouth so I could taste his sweet cream before I swallowed it. I wrapped my right hand around the base of his cock and took the rest in my mouth. I started stroking his cock with my hand while fluttering my tongue on the underside of his dickhead. "Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" He cried out. I felt the first jet of cum shoot through his urethra and then onto the back of my tongue. It was followed in rapid succession by five more bursts of cum. I let it stay in my mouth for about fifteen seconds, swishing it around with my tongue, tasting it as much as I could. I had an undertone of bitterness, probably from dominance pheromones. Then I swallowed it all and pulled my head off of his cock. Still on my knees I looked up at him and said, "Thank you Sir." End Part 1 I have started a gofundme to help me get caught up on my property taxes. If you can help here is the link. https://gofund.me/87abe9e9 Unlike artists that can support their art by selling commissions most of us writers don't have this option. But there is something you can do to help a writer justify the time he spends on the keyboard. If you like my stories you can support me at https://ko-fi.com/sarcasticsword . These are my other stories that I have moved or I'm in the process of moving to Nifty. All of them are in their entirety on SoFurry.com: Earth's New Masters https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/earths-new-masters/ In My Wildest Dreams https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/in-my-wildest-dreams/ Wild Horses https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bestiality/wild-horses Runt https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/runt/ Mutt https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/sf-fantasy/mutt Pittsburghese N'at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/pittsburgese/ Craigslist Bull https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/sf-fantasy/craigslist-bull/ The Trophy Wife https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/sf-fantasy/the-trophy-wife The Initiate https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/the-initiate My Pet Lion https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/my-pet-lion Sasquatch In My Mind https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/sf-fantasy/sasquatch-in-my-mind Reverse Cowboy https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/reverse-cowboy The Oracle https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/historical/the-oracle/ Royal Prerogative https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/historical/royal-prerogative Harry Potter and Firenze https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/celebrity/harry-potter-and-firenze The House Mouse https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/military/the-house-mouse The Jungle Book https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/celebrity/the-jungle-book In Gods We Thrust https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/in-gods-we-thrust Of Dogs And Young Men https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bestiality/of-dogs-and-young-men/ Karl, Tony and I https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bestiality/karl-tony-and-i Peter and John https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bestiality/peter-and-john/ Legends https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bestiality/legends/ Ridden By A Tiger https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bestiality/ridden-by-a-tiger/ If you read any of the others please let me know what you think of them. I love to hear from readers about the stories or chat about personal experiences.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/cashing-in/

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