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 and/or females. 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 relationship to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction.
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Brandon's Boots
Chapter 6
When you work in a school long enough, or just around kids in general, you learn a lot about bullies. Most people think they understand bullies. They think all bullies come from abusive homes, are cowards, and will immediately back down when you stand up to them. A lot of times, those things are true. But as I've said previously, some bullies act that way, not out of rage at their home life, or because their parents don't love them, or any other reason except this: they are mean as hell and enjoy tormenting other people.
Brandon was that sort of bully. He just enjoyed it.
Another key thing you learn about bullies, especially if, like me, you used to be an assistant principal: they never act alone. Bullies find each other, and quickly. A bully always has friends, hangers-on, a posse, a crew; like remoras attached to a shark, they go everywhere their leader goes, acting as his assistants, backup, cheering section, and audience. No matter how cruel a bully's behavior towards his victim, it's always amplified by an order of magnitude when there is an audience.
And they make sure there is always an audience.
I was kneeling on the floor of my apartment, naked, licking the sweat off Brandon's feet. He was sitting on what I guess used to be my couch (since he'd just taken over my apartment and made it his) making phone calls.
"Yo, dude! Yeah, you get that vid I sent you? Yeah, I know right! Yeah for real, man. No, I'm not shitting you at all. What you don't believe me? Hold on a minute."
Brandon pushed his toes deeper into my mouth. "Look at me faggot," he ordered. I looked up at him, my mouth bulging as he forced his sweaty toes into my mouth. He clicked a picture of me sucking on his foot. "Fucking perfect," he grinned, then started texting.
"Check your messages, dude. You get it?" Brandon let out a guffaw. "Yeah, I'm telling you dude. Seriously. Sure, bring some beer with you. OK I'll text you the address. Later."
I heard Brandon texting again, and a minute or two later, his phone rang.
"Sup man? Yeah, you like that, huh? Figured you would. You always hated that fucker. Totally, man, all you want. Yeah, man, let's do it! I'll text you the address. See ya!"
Brandon hung up, and looked down at me, where I was licking the soles of his feet. "Getting to be about dinner time, fuckboy. Get your ass in the kitchen and make me something to eat." He picked up the remote and started flipping through the TV channels while I went into the kitchen to prepare him some food.
There wasn't much in the house to cook, so I made Brandon a sandwich and brought it to him. He ordered me back to the floor, this time massaging his big feet while he watched TV. About an hour later, Brandon got a text on his phone. After reading it, he unzipped his pants and hauled out his big cock.
"Get my dick in your mouth, cocksucker. Nurse on it for a while," he ordered.
I moved up to his lap. I took his soft cock in my mouth and began to gently suck it. It quickly started growing in my mouth, the big cockhead filling my mouth. In less than a minute, Brandon was fully hard, filling my mouth completely.
Brandon put his hand on my head, not forcing his cock down my throat, but holding me on his cock so I couldn't pull off if it. As if I would dare try. I didn't want him rattling my teeth with another backhand slap for taking his cock out of my mouth without permission, like he had the first time I sucked him.
Then I heard the front door open.
"Holy shit! You weren't fucking joking man!" I heard a voice say.
I think I squealed from shock. I couldn't believe someone was seeing me like this, completely naked, with Brandon's huge cock in my mouth. I jerked back, trying to remove his club-like dick from my throat where he had it securely buried, in a vain attempt to preserve what little dignity I had left. Brandon anticipated this, though, which was why he had a secure grip on my head, his fingers intertwined with my hair to prevent me from getting away. I struggled and continued to make noise, so Brandon shoved my face down further on his cock and flexed it in my throat. Meanwhile, he was casually talking to the person behind me.
"Dude, I told you so! You think I was lying? Shit, we're gonna have some fun tonight! Put that beer in the fridge and make yourself at home, " Brandon said.
Not only was he exposing me as his personal cocksucker, but he was inviting other people into what was once my home. He really did think he owned the place...and me.
I heard the stranger moving around behind me in the kitchen, then coming back into the living room. He apparently handed Brandon a beer, because I heard him open it with one hand while his other hand was moving my head up and down on his cock. Brandon took a swig on the beer, then pulled my head up so that just the tip of his cock was inside my mouth. He turned my head to the side a bit, so I could finally see who else was in the apartment.
My heart sank. It was Jesse Reese. Another former student of mine, and one of Brandon's "crew". Jesse was the same age as Brandon, but about six inches taller, standing about 6'3". He was built thick -- not fat, not overly muscular, just big. He developed early, as I recall, which had made it easy for him to intimidate the other kids with sheer size alone. He had brown hair buzzed nearly to his scalp, and a beard running along his jawline. He looked like he'd just gotten off work, as he was wearing a work shirt with his name on it, stained blue work pants, and black, steel-toed work boots.
Brandon was always mean, but with Jesse standing behind him, he was bold, too, since between the two of them they were pretty much able to handle anyone who tried to stand up to their harassment. Jesse was always more of a follower, but still managed to get into plenty of trouble, both due to Brandon's influence and his own quick temper.
My life had just gotten so much worse. In that moment, not only was I exposed physically, but Brandon was showing me off to his buddy, a young man I used to teach and discipline, as the cocksucker he had turned me into against my will. My weakness as a man was on display, and I felt part of me die inside.
"Yo, faggot!" Brandon said, wiggling my head a bit while forcing me to look at Jesse and keep his cock in my mouth at the same time. "You remember my buddy, Jesse, don't ya? Yeah, I'm sure you do, bitch. More important, he remembers you!" Brandon laughed.
"Oh yeah," Jesse said, grinning. "Mr. Anderson and me know each other, don't we? Should have known he was a cock smoker way back then." Jesse opened his beer and sat down on the other end of the couch.
Just then, I heard the door open again, and Brandon and Jesse greeted another guest. Brandon shoved my head down on his cock as soon as he felt me trying to flee again. This was getting awful! How many people were going to see me like this? What were they going to do to me?
Once again, Brandon pulled my head up and turned it sideways, with just the knob of his cock filling my mouth. If I thought the arrival of Jesse was bad, this new person was even worse. Travis Echols was standing in front of me, smirking at me as I knelt with my mouth stretched around Brandon's thick cock. Even worse, he was taking a picture of me!
I had forgotten the Brandon used to run around with Travis. Brandon was a bully, while Jesse was a hothead that helped Brandon bully people. Travis, however, was a real menace. He was almost constantly in trouble for something, and oftentimes in trouble with the law as well. Like Brandon, he was just plain mean, and seemed to get real joy out of bullying and hurting other kids. From the looks of him, I doubted that had changed much as he got older. He never graduated. He left school in his senior year right before we expelled him for selling dope on school grounds. I heard he'd been in and out jail, the result of his numerous run-ins with the law.
Unlike Brandon and Jesse, Travis looked mean. There was something about him that always reminded me of a snake, even when he was a teenager. He was smaller than Brandon and Jesse. He only stood about 5'8", and had a thin, wiry build, with lean, defined muscles and very little body fat. He looked like he'd grown up poor and never got enough to eat. His arms were decorated with tattoos, some of which looked like he may have gotten then in jail. His brown hair was shaggy and slightly curly, like he hadn't had a haircut in a while, and he was wearing a baseball cap backwards to keep it out of his eyes. His shirt and jeans were old with rips, not in a fashionable way, but more in a "poor and this is all I have" kind of way. Ever the skater punk, he was wearing an old, ragged, and very dirty pair of black and white Vans.
Travis stood there, glaring at me with an evil look in his green eyes. I was scared of Brandon and Jesse, since I knew they liked violence. But Travis absolutely terrified me. There was no telling what he would do at any given time under the best of circumstances. Naked, on my knees with a cock in my throat, confronted by former students that hated me -- these were clearly not the `best of circumstances.' As I saw Travis staring at me with that evil look, I thought I was going to piss myself with fear. How had it ever gotten this far? How had I fallen to this low point?
Brandon shoved my head back down on his cock, giving me no choice but to swallow him. He relaxed a bit, allowing me to suck him without having my face fucked, but keeping his hand on my head the whole time so I couldn't escape. At that point, I would have run into the street naked if I had the chance.
While I was sucking him, Brandon was regaling his buddies with the story of my downfall, telling them about how he'd forced me to lick his boots, and how events progressed from there. They laughed when he told them about raping my ass over the desk and guffawed even louder when he described how I'd cum from him flicking my dick. I could hear him telling them to go check out the bedroom, and describing how he had taken my keys, made a copy for himself, then just moved in. They asked him about his wife, Amber, and he told them the story of his breakup, referring to her as "that cunt" over and over. Apparently, it was an unhappy marriage and had been for a while. She'd finally had enough of Brandon and demanded he move out, which was fine by him. That's how he ended up in my apartment.
Lucky me.
The whole time this conversation was going on, Brandon was holding my head on his massive cock, talking with his buds like it was the most natural thing in the world. As the conversation began to wind down, Brandon pulled my head off his rigid cock.
"Get up, bitch. Let my buddies see you for what you are, fag."
I stood up, and immediately covered my genitals with my hands. I couldn't even look at the three of them: my humiliation was too deep. It went beyond body shame or embarrassment at being seen sucking Brandon's cock; it was also because I had been an authority figure to these young men for a number of years. I'd been in charge of them, and now I was reduced to this, a cocksucker groveling in front of his younger, bully boss.
"Move those hands, asswipe," Brandon ordered. "Let the guys see that little nub between your legs."
Slowly, I moved my hands to my side, exposing myself fully to my tormentors. Being seen nude like this was degrading enough; to make it worse, though, my dick was fully erect and dripping precum, the result, apparently, of having Brandon's cock in my mouth. It seemed he was truly transforming me from a respectable straight man into his personal fag, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
"That's fucking hilarious!" Jesse laughed, looking at my dick. "Hey, fuckhead, you're dripping shit on the floor. Better lick that up."
I sighed, then got down on the floor and licked up the spots of my precum that had dripped off my dick.
"There's better uses for the fag's tongue," Travis drawled. "Crawl over here, bitch, and clean my shoes off."
I didn't want to. I was terrified of Travis. I was utterly vulnerable right now, and I knew he was exactly the type who would exploit that in ways I would regret. I hesitated in place, trying to decide what to do.
"Don't make me tell you again, cocksucker," Travis said coldly.
I was in some sort of brain lock. My entire body was paralyzed from a combination of fear, humiliation, and confusion. I couldn't fight back, and I couldn't comply.
"I know what this fucker needs," Travis said, getting up from his chair and walking to the bedroom. I glanced over at Brandon and Jesse, both of whom were grinning these evil grins, like they knew things were about to completely go to shit for me and couldn't wait for it to happen.
Travis came back from the bedroom holding an old wire hanger he'd found in the closet. He bent it out into a long oval as he walked behind me towards the kitchen. Suddenly, he turned, and I heard the hanger whistling through the air a spit second before it bit into the flesh of my ass, sending pain radiating through the lower half of my body. I'd never felt anything like it. The pain was concentrated into such a small area, it felt as if he'd cut into my flesh. I let out a scream, which only seemed to excite Travis, as he hit me four more times in quick succession with the hanger. Jesse and Brandon were hooting and laughing at me screaming and trying desperately to get away from Travis' blows, or at least block them. Travis was too quick, however, and landed a number of blows on my ass, thighs and sides as I frantically tried to avoid them. Every time I'd turn or try to crawl away, Travis was there before me, whacking me with the hanger. I tried to stand up, but he reached out with his foot and shoved me back down on the floor.
The only way I could think to avoid being hit any further was to advance on Travis and do what he wanted. I quickly crawled to his feet and began frantically licking his dirty Vans, hoping and praying he would stop beating me. My skin was on fire, and I was sure he'd raised huge welts on my ass. As soon as I started licking his shoes, Travis stopped hitting me. He allowed me to lick his shoes for a moment, then slowly started walking back towards his chair. As soon as he stepped away and I stopped licking, he whipped me with the coat hanger again, so I started crawling as he walked, doing my best to keep my tongue in constant contact with his shoes.
Travis sat back down, and I dared to risk a glance at him. He had a very self-satisfied grin on his face as he watched me cleaning his very dirty shoes. They were old, and even had a few holes in the sides. I don't think they'd ever been cleaned, because they smelled of grime and old foot odor. They were nasty, far nastier than Brandon's boots. I loathed the thought of where they had been, and what type of nastiness I was being forced to clean with my tongue. Travis lifted his foot, placing the sole of his shoe right against my tongue. I knew I had no choice but to clean the tread and eat the dirt from the bottom of his skater shoes.
"Damn, Brandon, you were right. This fag does respond well with a little discipline. Seems to me like he needs a lot of it," Travis said.
"Hell, yeah, I can do some of that," Jesse replied, standing up. I heard his unbuckling his belt. Next thing I knew, I felt Jesse's belt crash into my ass and I screamed into the bottom of Travis' shoe. "Crawl back over to the couch, cocksucker," Jesse ordered, hitting my ass again.
"Yes, Sir! Please, Sir! Please don't hit me anymore!" I begged, crawling to the couch as fast as I could.
"Sir? Fuck yeah, I like that!" Jesse laughed. "About time someone showed me some fucking respect!" He hit my ass once more with the belt, then stood in front of me and ordered me to lick his boots.
I don't know what he did for a living; something automotive would be my guess. His boots were filthy, covered in work grime and dirt. I could feel it coating my tongue as soon as I started licking his heavy, steel-toed work boots. Jesse was a big man with big feet, so there was a lot of area I had to lick.
"Been a long day, fag. I think you better pull my boots off and lick my feet, too. Show us what a nasty little bitch you are," Jesse ordered, taking a seat on the couch. I untied his boots, then pulled them off, followed by his work socks. I could smell the sweat on his huge feet. As with Brandon, I hated the idea of licking his sweaty feet, but feared his wrath and belt even more, so I stuck out my tongue and started licking them and sucking his toes.
While I was tongue swabbing Jesse's feet, the three men started discussing sports, as if abusing and using another person was the most natural thing in the world for them. After I'd sucked each of Jesse's toes and cleaned between each of them with my tongue, I heard Brandon taking off his belt behind me. I knew what was coming at that point, but I was powerless to stop it.
As I was bent over with my mouth on Jesse's feet, my ass was raised in the air, making an inviting and easy target for Brandon's belt. I don't know if he took aim or if it was just a lucky shot, but when he swung the belt, he hit me right on my taint, the edges of the belt clipping both my asshole and the top of my balls. It felt like a lightning bolt shot through my body. I collapsed, Jesse's toes still in my mouth. The pain was so intense that all I could do was lie there and groan around Jesse's foot while the three of them laughed their asses off. Jesse high-fived Brandon, congratulating him on such a good shot. That's what gave them the idea for what they called the faggot race.
Once I recovered enough to move, Brandon walked to the entrance to the kitchen, and ordered me to crawl to him. I slowly crawled over and began automatically licking his bare feet. Meanwhile Jesse and Travis took up positions in the far corners of the room.
"Crawl over to Jesse, fuckhole," Brandon ordered. When I turned, I realized Jesse had moved. As I was trying to locate him, Brandon brought his belt down on my already welted ass. I yelped and crawled away as fast as I could towards Jesse, with Brandon following me, whipping me with his belt. When I reached Jesse, I started licking his bare feet again. He allowed me to continue for a moment.
"Travis next," he said. I turned to crawl to Travis, as Jesse gleefully brought his belt down on the back of my thighs, eliciting a scream from me as I crawled faster towards Travis, eagerly licking his Vans as soon as I could to avoid any more blows from Jesse's belt. Travis quickly moved his foot away.
"Back to Jesse, cunt," he sneered, then brought the hanger down on my ass crack, hard. He was smaller and less muscular than Jesse or Brandon but seemed to hit just as hard. The hanger was also a whole different level of agony than the belts, which were bad enough. I crawled as fast as I could, but not before Travis got in several more blows.
The game went on for a while. When I was busy licking the feet of one of them, the other two would change positions, making it harder for me to find the one I was ordered to crawl to, allowing them more blows along the way. They even came up with a point system, where any blow that hit my balls or asshole got extra points. It wasn't long before I was literally in tears from the pain, the humiliation, and the exhaustion of having to constantly crawl back and forth across the room. The three men, on the other hand, were apparently having a blast, bragging to one another about especially vicious blows. At one point, it even looked like Travis was recording the whole thing on his phone. I'd lost all sense of self-consciousness at that point, crawling slack jawed and crying from man to man across the room. I was now obeying without thought, mentally trapped in a primitive state of pain avoidance.
Just when I was at the point of collapsing from exhaustion, they lost interest in the game. Brandon ordered me to go get them all fresh beers, so I crawled to the kitchen and returned with them. As much as it hurt to crawl, I'm not sure I even had the strength to stand at that point.
Brandon ordered me back on his cock, and I crawled over and obediently started sucking him again. Honestly, I was glad for the rest from being in one place, even if I hated having to suck him off while the others watched. While I was blowing Brandon, they began discussing girls they'd fucked, and even a few they had shared in the past. Brandon even told the others how my ass and mouth compared with girls they knew. I was just the latest in the long line of cum dumps Brandon had used, a few of which he'd shared with his buddies, it seemed.
Brandon wasn't ready to cum, apparently, because after about ten minutes of sucking him, he pushed me off his cock and ordered me to go blow Jesse, who was sitting on the far end of the couch from Brandon. I moved over to Jesse, who unzipped his work pants and pulled his cock and balls out of his boxers. Here it was - the second cock I'd ever been confronted with, the second one I was going to be forced to service. Jesse was a big guy, with a big cock and big balls. Not as long as Brandon's cock, but thicker, more round where Brandon's was wide. He was about half cut, with skin just partially covering his cock head. There was nothing subtle about Jesse; he grabbed his cock and shoved it in my mouth. He forced my face down on his dick, burying my nose in his pubic hair, his big balls against my chin. He started to use my head like a Fleshlight, holding my ears and moving me at the pace he chose, using my mouth to jack himself off. His cock was fat enough to stretch my jaw but didn't choke me the way Brandon's did. Jesse was all business, and his business was apparently pumping a load down my throat, which he did after a few minutes of ramming my face. Having one man use me as a cocksucker was bad enough, but now a second man had filled me with his cum. I knew, however, that things could always get worse, especially with these three volatile bullies.
As soon as he came, Jesse shoved me off his cock. "Hey, Trav, you want some of this fag's mouth?" he casually called to Travis.
"Yeah, send the dick licker over here," Travis sniggered.
I didn't need to be told. I crawled towards Travis. This was the moment I was seriously dreading. Travis seemed far more willing to resort to violence just because he enjoyed it. He also really hated me. I'd known that back when he was a student who was constantly in my office for some sort of infraction. Now, with me at his mercy, I was truly frightened of what he might do to me, and confident that the others would not only allow it but encourage it.
At Travis' feet, I looked up at him. He glared at me with a look of pure loathing. I could tell he was enjoying my degradation, as well as having me under his power.
"Beg me, bitch. Beg for what you want," he demanded.
I took a deep breath. I knew I had to do this. I knew I'd suffer terribly if I didn't beg to his satisfaction. I fought back a fresh wave of shame which threatened to overwhelm me at that moment, as I visualized the situation I was in, and imagined what my family and former coworkers would think if they could see me now, groveling naked and beaten at the feet of a twentysomething skater punk loser, his friend's cum still lingering in my mouth, about to beg for my third cock of the night. What a disgrace I'd become.
"Please...please , Sir. May I please suck your cock?" I asked Travis, staring at his feet.
"Louder, asshole," Brandon demanded. We can't hear you over here."
"Please, Sir! Please may I suck your cock!" I practically yelled.
Travis stared at me coldly. "I don't know, fag. I'm not convinced. Convince me you want it, or you can spend some more time with Mr. Hanger here," he said, brandishing the wire hanger I'd come to fear so much.
"Oh, please Sir! Please put your cock in my throat, Sir!" I begged. I put my head down to his feet and began licking his dirty shoes some more for added effect. "Please fuck my mouth with your cock! I need your dick in me, Sir. Please let me have your cum, Sir!" I continued licking his shoes as I heard him unzip his jeans.
"Get up here and get on it then, asswipe," Travis ordered. I raised up from his feet, only to be confronted with his cock, already rock hard and ready for me. Travis's cock was like the rest of him: thin, long and lean. Lengthwise, it was as long or possibly a little longer than Brandon's, but nowhere near as thick. Like Brandon's, his had a big mushroom head on it, though Travis' cock had a downward curve. I leaned forward and put his cock in my mouth, disgusted by my own actions.
Travis sat back down while I worked on his pole. I glanced up once, only to see he was using his phone to record me slobbering on his cock. I was at a point where I didn't even care anymore. How much lower could I possibly go, anyway?
As I was sucking his cock, Travis took his feet and forced my knees apart, then used his shoe to start tapping on the bottom of my balls, his instep making repeated contact with my delicate scrotum. It took very little effort for him, but caused me a great deal of pain, which seemed to only turn him on more, as his cock throbbed more whenever I would wince or gasp from the pain of him torturing my nuts. He continued to rub his Vans on the tender skin of my balls, the laces of his shoes abrading my skin as he played a sadistic game of tetherball with my nuts.
The more Travis racked my balls with his shoe, the more I squealed around his cock buried in my throat. Every time I squealed, my throat constricted and squeezed his cock, providing him more pleasure each time he provided me with pain. It just encouraged him to continue hurting me. I didn't know how much longer I could continue; the pain in my nuts was intense. Suddenly, Travis used his foot to hit me one more time, hard. I would have doubled over from the pain had I not been speared on his cock. My groans must have sent the little sadist over the edge, because he let out a moan and filled my mouth with a huge load of his cum.
I started to pull off Travis' cock, but he held my head in place. "No cocksucker, I want to soak my dick for a while. Keep it in your mouth," he demanded. I continued to kneel there with his cock softening in my mouth, the bitter taste of his cum coating my tongue and throat, while the three of them continued chatting about what was on TV. Then, I felt Travis pick up the hanger again.
"Here we go, dudes," he said to the others, a nasty grin on his face. "Y'all watch this shit!" He grabbed ahold of my hair. "Yo, fucker," he said to me. "You remember all those times you lectured me in your fucking office, told me what a piece of shit you thought I was, how I wasn't going anywhere in life, all that crap? Well, it's time for some payback, fag." I feared he was going to start beating me again with the hanger, but it turned out to be much worse. I suddenly felt him start pissing in my mouth! Travis strengthened his grip on my head so I couldn't move as his strong, nasty piss filled my mouth. I was utterly disgusted. I couldn't believe he would do something so nasty to me.
"Drink up, shithead. Every fucking drop. You spill any on my jeans, I'm going to beat you harder than you beat that little fag dick of yours," he threatened, brandishing the wire hanger in front of me.
I couldn't do this. I wouldn't do this. It was too nasty, too disgusting, too inhuman to have this guy using my mouth as his urinal. I tried to avoid it, but as Travis' rancid piss continued to fill my mouth, I had no choice but to start swallowing it.
It was the nastiest thing I'd ever tasted, and the most degrading. I thought I would vomit from the taste of his piss, but knew if I did, these guys might well put me in the hospital. I choked his piss down, swallow after swallow. Apparently, Travis had a big bladder, because he continued pissing in me for what seemed like forever. When his flow finally stopped, he slowly released my head. I made sure to suck off any last, lingering drops of his piss, in the hopes he wouldn't beat me.
"How'd my piss taste, faggot?" he asked, smirking. When I didn't respond, he took the hanger and reached down toward my balls with it. "Oh, shit! Look at this faggot, y'all! I just fucked his face, beat his balls, and pissed down his throat, and his little fag dick is stiff as a board!" he laughed. He started jiggling my erection with the hanger, laughing as he did so, then made me stand up and display my shame to the others. While they were laughing at me, Travis kept using the hanger to tease my genitals, while also threatening to whip my dick with it. He would reach back like he was going to strike a mighty blow to my prick. When I braced for the intense pain, he would swing the hanger, causing it to whistle as it cut the air, but stop before he made contact, causing all three men to howl with laughter at my fear.
I hated this abuse. I hated these cruel young men. I hated everything they were doing to me. I feared it would destroy me completely.
Why was my dick still so hard?
"Crawl over here, cunt, I gotta piss, too," Brandon told me. I dropped back to my knees, unsure what I should be feeling: happy to be out of reach of Travis and his cruel hanger, or dread at being forced to drink Brandon's nasty piss. I crawled toward him, knowing there was no way to avoid the inevitable: he was going to use me as a urinal as well. When I got to his feet, Brandon stood up, then ordered me to open my mouth. He held his cock right next to my lips, not touching my mouth.
He looked at Travis, "Dude, get some video of this! This is gonna be priceless!" He looked back down at me, with a stern look on his face. "Faggot, you know what's gonna happen to you if you spill my piss, right? Or if you throw up? We're gonna take turns beating those useless little nuts of yours with these belts and that hanger. So, you better drink up fag, cause here it comes!" With that, Brandon started pissing in my mouth. His cock was far enough from my mouth I'm sure the others could clearly see his urine flowing into my mouth, something I knew Travis was capturing for posterity on his phone.
I struggled to keep up with the flow of Brandon's piss. His big cock was like a fire hose. I had to quickly learn to swallow with my mouth open. The taste was disgusting! When Travis pissed down my throat, his cock had been far enough in that the piss bypassed at least some of my tastebuds. It was nasty, but not like this. My entire mouth was filled with Brandon's urine. I promise you I tasted every nasty, disgusting drop of it. When he was done, he shook his cock off, then dried it off on my lips and nose, a smug grin on his face.
"You better know what to do now, faggot. Show my buddies how well I've trained you, bitch," Brandon demanded.
I bent down and kissed his huge bare feet. "Thank you for your piss, Sir," I said.
Not to be outdone, Jesse decided to make use of my mouth as well but preferred to stay seated. He made me hold his fat cock in my mouth. Unlike the other two, though, he didn't just let loose with a bladderful of piss all at once. He feed it to me gradually, starting and stopping his flow, making it last, making sure I tasted it thoroughly. His recycled beer wasn't as pungent as Travis', nor as dark as Brandon's, but it seemed there was a lot more of it. I spent a long time with his cock in my mouth, as he slowly drained his bladder into my throat. When Jesse was done with me, Brandon ordered me to suck his cock again. By now, my entire body was sore from crawling and being beaten, and my throat was raw from Jesse and Travis raping it. My belly felt bloated from all the piss these three young bullies had put inside me. The last thing I wanted was another load of cum to add to it.
Brandon grabbed my head, and began his favorite technique, which apparently he and the other guys referred to as "gag the bitch", where he rammed his entire cock down my throat and held it there as I fought for air, his cockhead thoroughly plugging my airway. As usual, my self-preservation instinct kicked in, and I started to twist and thrash as my oxygen ran out, only to have Brandon pull out seconds before I went unconscious. He did this repeatedly, and several times I felt myself cough up some of the piss I'd been forced to swallow, the taste of it mixing with the taste of bile and Brandon's massive cock. When he was finally ready to cum, Brandon plugged my throat with his cock and held me there as I struggled, then finally blacked out. When I regained consciousness, I had a mouth full of his cum, and he was slowly withdrawing his cock from my mouth while all the guys were laughing.
Now that all three had filled me with their cum and piss, I was hoping they would leave me alone, or at least give me a short break from their abuse. They gave me a rest from their cocks, all right, but not from the abuse. After Brandon pulled his cock from my mouth, I obediently kissed his feet and thanked him for his cum, even though I could barely speak after choking on his cock. He ordered to crawl into the bedroom and fetch his boots. When I returned to the living room with them, he made me stand in the corner of the room, facing out, so they could all see me, with my hands behind my back. Brandon tied his bootlaces together, then made a loop, which he slipped over my nutsack. I began to tremble when I realized what he was going to do. He was holding his boots at the level of my navel while he attached the laces to my balls. Suddenly, he got a big grin on his face, then abruptly dropped his boots. They fell towards the floor, stopped by the laces tied about my tender balls, jerking my nuts to the bottom of my nutsack and causing me intense pain from their weight. I doubled over, groaning, as all three of the guys laughed like it was the most hilarious thing they'd ever seen.
Brandon stepped back to survey his handiwork: my balls were stretched tight, supporting the weight of his boots, a look of agony on my face. I couldn't even make eye contact with any of them, not after how they had used me and continued to abuse my body.
Jesse spoke up, "Fuck, man that's funny as hell! Add mine, why dontcha? Those fuckers are steel-toed, and they are heavy as shit."
Brandon apparently thought that was an excellent idea, because he snatched up both of Jesse's boots and tied them together, then came back to where I was standing and lifted up his own boots. As he was tying all four boots together, I couldn't even form words, just pleaded with him by making whimpering noises in my throat like a scared dog. Brandon clearly enjoyed my fear, because this time, he held both sets of boots up as high as the laces would reach, stretching my tied scrotum along with them, then pretended to drop them several times, each time producing a gasp of fear from me in anticipation of the pain. My gasps and pleading sent the bullies into gales of laughter, topped only when Brandon finally did drop the boots. As soon as the boots reached the ends of their laces, I thought my balls would be jerked clear off my body. That's what it felt like, at least. The pain knocked me to my knees and took my breath away.
"Get back up on your feet, cocksucker. Nobody gave you permission to rest," Brandon snapped.
I slowly climbed back to my feet, placing my hands behind my back as instructed. As soon as the boots lifted off the floor and my balls were supporting their entire weight, I let out a groan. My balls were on fire. Every little movement of the boots caused additional pain and torment.
I suppose Travis was feeling left out, because he got up and walked over to where I was standing, holding one of his dirty Vans. He told me to turn around and face the wall, then slipped the shoe over my face, so that my nose was buried deep inside his sweaty skater shoe. I could smell how old and nasty his shoes were. He tied the laces behind my head tightly, trapping my face inside his shoe. The smell of his foot sweat was pervasive, completely filling my senses. He ordered me to turn around and face the room, and all three guys started laughing again.
"Here's what you're going to do, you stupid bitch," Travis instructed me. "You're going to start swinging those fucking boots with your balls. Those boots better keep moving at all times unless you want me to come back over here with Mr. Hanger again. So, get them legs spread and start swinging, asshole."
I began to move my hips, enough to make the boots attached to my balls swing back and forth. Each movement of the boots added to my agony. Being forced to perform like this was yet a new form of humiliation and cruelty I could barely fathom.
As I stood there, my tender scrotum holding two sets of boots, Travis' nasty shoe covering my face, my three young tormenters sat chatting and watching TV, as if my suffering was beneath their notice, only good for occasional amusement.
As I looked down at my poor, tortured nuts, stretched to the limit by the boots hanging from them and slowly swinging in an gentle arc back and forth, I felt a new wave of shame wash over me when I realized my dick was still hard and throbbing.
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