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.
If you enjoy this story, please make a donation to Nifty! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Brandon's Boots
Chapter 7
I don't know how long they left me standing there like that, with two sets of heavy boots hanging from my balls, stretching my nutsack to the breaking point. The pain from the weight of the boots was bad enough when they were just hanging there. But Travis's order to swing the boots by moving my hips constantly increased the agony. The arc of the boots as they moved wasn't constant; it changed as they occasionally banged into my knees, or sometimes swung on a wider arc as my hip muscles began to get fatigued from the repeated motion. My balls were constantly being pulled, jerked, stretched, and tugged, the laces biting into and abrading the tender flesh of my scrotum. I thought my balls would eventually go numb, but that wasn't the case. Instead, they began to burn, both from the chafing of the laces and the weight of the boots. Plus, my lower back and hips were beginning to hurt from being forced to constantly move in a slow arc, like trying to keep a Hula-Hoop going for a long time. My legs were spread, and my knees partially bent in order to give the boots enough room to swing. I was scared that if they didn't swing noticeably enough, Travis would make good on his threat to beat me more with the wire hanger. But that position was putting a lot of stress on my thighs and knees. Before long, my legs began to tremble as muscle fatigue set in. It became harder and harder to support the weight of the boots and keep them moving. With Travis's nasty skater shoe tied across my face, every breath I inhaled was flavored with the odor of his feet.
Meanwhile, my three young tormentors were sitting mere feet away, watching TV, chatting with each other about their lives like friends do, completely ignoring me and my suffering, as if having a naked man being tortured in the corner was perfectly normal to them. At one point, I became so tired from swinging the boots that I stopped momentarily and straightened up to give my knees and back a brief rest. Travis glanced over at me as soon as I stopped, though. He just glared at me while he picked up the hanger. I got the message, and immediately resumed my previous position, swinging the boots with my balls, legs spread wide and knees bent.
The pain became really bad. I wasn't sure how much longer I could take it. My balls, knees, and back developed a deep ache, and the boot laces felt like they had rubbed all the skin off my nuts. To add to my agony, my bladder was more than full after being forced to drink the piss of all three men. I began to make pathetic little whining noises into Travis's shoe, hoping they would have mercy and at least allow me some rest. It made me feel like a dog, having to whine in an attempt to get the attention of the men who controlled my fate. My whining got their attention, but not in the way I'd hoped.
"Yo, faggot," Brandon said, "Quit your stupid dancing and get this table cleared off," he ordered, gesturing to the coffee table, which was covered in beer cans and some dishes.
I straightened up, hobbled over to the coffee table, and began cleaning it off, taking the trash and dishes into the kitchen. If standing and swinging the boots had been torture, walking with them attached to my balls was a new form of agony. They repeatedly banged into my legs as I tried to move, causing them to swing in a completely unpredictable fashion, jerking and twisting my nutsack even more than before. I felt like a fool trying to walk with my legs spread in such a way as to minimize the movement of the boots, and I could only imagine what I looked like, especially with Travis's shoe tied to my face. It felt like my balls were stretched halfway to my knees.
Once the coffee table was cleared off, Brandon ordered me to climb up on it and kneel. I wasn't sure what was coming next, but I knew it wouldn't be good for me. I climbed onto the table as gently as possible in order to keep from jostling the boots any more than necessary. My balls finally got some relief when the boots came to rest on the table under me. Brandon ordered me to turn and kneel longways on the table, so that my head was at one end, and my ass was hanging off the other. Then he abruptly knocked the boots off the table, so both pair were once again hanging, supported only by my sore, abused nuts. I howled from the sudden pain in my balls, causing all three guys to break out laughing again. Brandon started smacking my ass with his big hand, making sure to hit on the already existing welts from my earlier beating with their belts and Travis's hanger. The pain was intense, since my ass was already terribly sore, and each smack caused me to jerk and tense, making the boots stretch my balls even further. I saw Jesse and Travis get up and walk around behind me, then they started spanking me with their hands as well. I don't know if the three of them were coordinating it on purpose or if it just happened that way, but their blows were falling in such a rhythm that the spanking was constant: as soon as one hand hit my ass, another one hit, with not even a momentary break in between. Imagine a spanking, but no chance to brace for the next hit, no chance to recover before the next blow, just constant impact, constant pain. That's what it was like, with each blow further jostling the boots, increasing the pain in my tortured balls.
I realized I was crying again, tears running down my face and collecting under me on the coffee table.
"Ok dudes, who wants the faggot's ass first?" Brandon asked. Oh no! They intended to fuck me! I was about to be gang raped by these three young bullies right here on my coffee table. I tried to move, to get away, but I was locked in place, overwhelmed by a combination of my fear and the pain in my ass and balls. And, to tell the humiliating truth, I was more fearful of what they would do to me if I resisted than of having all three of them rape my ass.
I heard them arguing about who was going to fuck me first. Then, one of the most humiliating events of this entire episode happened: they decided to settle it with Rock, Paper, Scissors. These bullies were playing a kid's game to decide in what order they would rape me. I wanted to melt into the table. Nothing, not any of the events up to this point, none of Brandon's abuse, had made me feel so dehumanized, so much like a thing to be used as that did. My most secret place, deep inside me, was going to be violated against my will by these men, and it was just a game to them. I was just a toy to play with as long as it amused them, then throw away when they finally broke me, as I was certain they inevitably would. I had been praying they would get tired of abusing me and leave me alone, but now I began to fear what would happen when they finally did.
To my horror, Travis won the game and got to fuck me first. I knew it would be a particularly brutal rape, considering how much he despised me, along with his innate cruelty. He didn't bother to use any lube, either. That would have been far to generous for his taste. Instead, he spit on my asshole, and shoved his long, thin cock inside me in one go, spearing me deep inside with the big knob-shaped head of his cock. His dick was very similar to Brandon's, much thinner but slightly longer, which meant that when he was in me to the hilt, the huge mushroom head of his cock was firmly lodged well inside my second sphincter, causing an ache deep inside me as his cock stretched and probed areas even Brandon's massive tool didn't reach. Travis made sure that his rape of my hole was as painful as possible, ramming my hole hard without giving me any time to adjust to his size. There was no way to relax into it; the mushroom head of his cock felt like a having a doorknob shoved inside me repeatedly. Travis was especially vicious, pulling completely out of my ass, then inserting the swollen head of his cock just inside my sphincter, knob-fucking that tight ring where it was most painful for me but most pleasurable for him, while avoiding any contact with my prostate which might give me any hint of enjoyment. He would alternate between knob-fucking my sphincter and ramming his cock deep into me, with no way for me to predict which would happen at any given moment. My bladder was still filled to capacity with all three men's piss, so the pressure of his cock deep inside me was also pressing against my bladder. I had to clamp down tight in order to keep from pissing all over the coffee table each time this evil skater bully rammed my hole. That only increased his enjoyment, though, and he soon got into a rhythm, slapping my welted ass and ramming his cock inside me. Suddenly, I felt Travis reach down and grab the laces of both pairs of boots hanging from my distended nutsack, and drag them back and up towards him, making sure my stretched scrotum was right on target for him. He began to ram deep into my hole, deliberately banging his hips into my balls with each thrust. I started screaming and didn't stop, the agony of him pounding into my already-abused nuts overriding even the pain deep inside my guts. Jesse and Brandon started laughing at my suffering, calling encouragement to Travis.
"Yeah, man, fuck this faggot up good. Give him some payback for all those times he punished you, Trav," Jesse said.
"Jesse, shut the fag up before the neighbors call the damn cops, man," Brandon ordered. Jesse was standing near my head, watching Travis rape me. Jesse untied Travis's shoe from my face, grabbed my head and shoved his cock in my mouth as I screamed. His fat log effectively plugged my mouth as Travis continued ramming into my ass and balls with each thrust. Finally, Travis shoved his cock deep into my ass and let out a loud groan. I could feel him dumping his load inside me. As much as I hated it when Brandon had cum inside me, I truly loathed feeling Travis do so, breeding me like I was his bitch. Having his cum inside me made me feel violated in an entirely new way, one I wasn't sure I would get over.
Travis slowly pulled his cock out of my ass, his cockhead giving my battered hole one last reaming on the way out. He released the boots, causing them to fall towards the floor and yank my bruised nuts with them, eliciting another yelp into Jesse's cock.
"How was it, dude?" Jesse asked Travis. "Is the faggot as tight as Brandon claims?"
"Heh, not as tight now," Travis bragged, slapping the welts on my ass one last time as he walked back towards my head.
Jesse and Travis high fived and changed places, with Travis presenting his cock to my mouth to be sucked clean. I could smell my own ass on his cock, and I could see stains of my ass slime all over it. Travis grabbed my nose and pinched it until I opened wide, then shoved it in my throat about the same time I felt Jesse's cock pressed against my sore hole. I dreaded what was about to happen, knowing a cock as fat as Jesse's would be very painful, even after Travis's abusive rape.
At least this time my hole wasn't dry. Travis's cum acted as lube to allow Jesse's fat pole to slide into me a bit easier. The girth of it was the problem; Brandon's cock was thick and wide, but Jesse's was round and very fat, and it stretched my hole in ways Travis's cock hadn't, giving Jesse a nice, tight fit. I was afraid my asshole would rip from being stretched so far. Jesse pounded away at my ass while Travis kept his cock in my mouth as it grew soft. Jesse was a hitter, slapping my ass with his big paw every time he thrust into me, raising new bruises on top of the welts already decorating my ass.
As I was trying to accommodate the massive girth of Jesse's cock, Travis's dick had grown soft in my mouth, despite me licking it clean. Travis grabbed me by the ears and began to piss in my mouth while Jesse cored out my hole. I was forced to swallow my tormenter's rancid piss while his buddy continued to rape me and Brandon watched, calling encouragement to the other two.
Jesse came about the time Travis finished emptying his bladder down my throat. Jesse let out a loud roar and smacked both of my ass cheeks with both of his hands as he rammed his prick home, filling my insides with a second load of cum.
After Jesse was done, he traded places with Travis to get his cock cleaned, while Brandon lined up behind me. I felt the head of Brandon's massive dick pressing against my sore, stretched hole, and braced for his invasion. Then he stopped.
"Nah, I got a better idea," Brandon said with an evil chuckle. "On your back, fuckhole." Jesse pulled his now-clean cock out of my mouth and stood back to watch what Brandon was going to do. I slowly maneuvered on the coffee table until I was on my back. The laces of the boots were now laying across my asshole, and I could feel Travis and Jesse's cum starting to leak out of my hole. I couldn't imagine why Brandon would want sloppy thirds at this point.
Brandon grabbed the boots and threw them over my leg, letting them dangle off the side of the table and keeping them out of his way. That pulled my balls forward and to one side, a new way of stretching them that added to the discomfort.
"Yo, Trav, come over here and grab this bitch's ankles for me, will ya?" Brandon asked. Travis obliged, straddling my head which was resting on the edge of the coffee table. He got a firm grip on my ankles and pulled them towards my head to put my hole at the perfect angle for Brandon's cock. Brandon looked down at me with a wicked look on his face. He stared me right in the eyes and sneered.
"See, cunt, this is what I love best," Brandon explained. "I like to go last. My cock is big enough I can still stretch your hole even after the other guys. And I love fucking a bitch that's already sore and bruised inside. You thought my cock hurt before? Shit, you ain't felt nothing like what's about to happen to you, fucker!" He laughed. "Trav, you better keep this cunt quiet, `cause you know he's gonna scream. Probably louder than that last bitch we did this to. Remember that? Fuck, I thought someone would call the cops for sure!" They both laughed.
"Hold on a minute, dude, I got a perfect idea," Travis replied. He released my ankles, and I heard him stripping off the rest of his clothes. A moment later he was back, naked, and positioned himself directly above my face. I was stunned. This sadistic young bully was about to sit on my face!
Travis placed his asshole right over my mouth. The stench from his sweaty ass was awful. I was so disgusted I thought I would throw up. The hairs on his ass were rubbing all over my face. I couldn't see anything except Travis's ass pressed against my eyes.
I felt Travis lean forward and grab my ankles again and pull them back towards my head. "Go for it, dude!" he told Brandon.
Brandon shoved his entire cock inside me with one thrust. Even with two loads of cum as lube, I felt as if I'd been gored. I screamed into Travis's ass.
"Ahh, fuck yeah, that's feels awesome," Travis moaned.
Brandon was right. Having his big cock inside my bruised and battered asshole was worse than I could have imagined. It was so thick and wide it stretched me even after Jesse's cock, even after the brutal knob-fucking Travis gave me. All Travis and Jesse had done was to bruise me deep inside, creating sore spots for Brandon to exploit. It felt like I was being raped with a baseball bat, handle first. The knob of Brandon's cock would rub against all the sore spots deep inside me from the other two bullies, and the wedge-shaped width of his cock stretched my guts more and more each time he rammed into me. I continued to scream into Travis's sweaty asshole, which was firmly planted over my mouth. I could barely breathe, and the little air I did get was saturated with the smell of Travis's ass sweat.
"Here we go, guys! Wait for it, man, wait for it..." I head Travis say to the others, laughing.
Suddenly, Travis's asshole opened up and he let out a loud, foul fart right into my mouth. It had nowhere to go except up my nose and into my mouth, then deep into my lungs. It was so disgusting, I momentarily forgot about Brandon's giant prick beating up my guts. Trapped as I was, I had no choice but to inhale Travis's fart, as I heard all three guys laughing hysterically.
Brandon began really pounding my hole then. His cock was ramming into my prostate as it stretched me inside, creating a mixture of intense pain and an intense desire to cum at the same time. He was also battering against my overfull bladder the way Travis had, but this position was making it even worse.
"Holy shit, look at that!" Jesse exclaimed, as I felt my dick squirt. I was shocked that Brandon was making me cum without my dick even being touched. It felt weird. Not pleasurable the way an orgasm should be. Travis quickly jumped off my face, so as not to get any on him. That's when I realized the terrible, humiliating truth: it wasn't cum squirting out of my dick - it was piss. Brandon was literally fucking the piss out of me. All of their piss collected in my bladder was too much for the pounding of Brandon's huge cock. Each time he would trust into my guts, piss would squirt out of my dick all over my chest. My bullies thought that was hilarious. Travis rearranged me on the table and pulled my legs back further, so my dick was almost over my face. This also put Brandon's cock at a different angle, allowing him to penetrate even further inside me.
"Open your fucking mouth, faggot. Can't have that shit going everywhere. Drink it up, you nasty bitch," Travis ordered.
No. I wouldn't. Having them use my mouth as a urinal was bad enough. But having to drink their piss again, after it was recycled through my own bladder -- I wouldn't do that. I clamped my lips firmly closed. It was just too nasty for words.
Travis wasn't deterred. He simply pinched my nose until I had no choice but to open my mouth. My dick was still rock hard, despite all the abuse, despite being gang raped, beaten, pissed in and farted on. My untouched dick was hard, throbbing, and shooting recycled piss with each thrust of Brandon's mighty cock, piss which now shot directly into my mouth. The taste was strong and foul. This was concentrated piss, four loads of young bully piss I'd filtered through my own body, coming out one end and going right back in the other. These brutal men were turning my body into their own personal septic system.
Despite Brandon's repeated battering of my prostate, there was no pleasure in his fucking of me. All my muscles were tensed, trying to keep the piss from flowing out of my body in some pathetic, obscene mockery of an orgasm. A faggot orgasm, that's what Travis called it, laughing at me. Jesse was recording it with his phone, remarking about how disgusting I was. Brandon concentrated on reaming out my ass, making sure to slam into me as hard as possible.
"Dude, you wanna feel something awesome? Trade real quick," Travis said to Brandon. I felt him and Brandon change hands on my ankles. Travis grabbed the boots and yanked, making sure my balls were pulled as tight as possible, then started slapping his hand against my balls. I didn't think it was possible for me to tense up more than I was, but the abuse of my balls did it. I started yelling, which just made my mouth a better target for my piss, which was now squirting out in copious amounts with each thrust of Brandon's cock. The extra tightness apparently sent Brandon over the edge, because after Travis smacked my nuts about five times, Brandon growled and buried his cock up my hole and shot his cum deep inside my second sphincter.
Brandon pulled his cock out of the remains of my broken ass and walked over to my head. Without being ordered, I licked the cum and ass slime off his cock. All the fight had gone out of me. I had nothing left. I submitted mindlessly, just hoping to avoid any further pain.
"Well, bitch?" Brandon demanded, not even allowing me a chance to rest. I carefully climbed off the coffee table, trying to avoid any more jarring of the boots still tied to my balls. I kissed Brandon's feet.
"Thank you for your cum, Sir."
"Don't be a rude little cunt," he said. "Thank them, too."
I leaned over and kissed Jesse's huge feet. "Thank you for you cum, Sir."
Jesse laughed. "Damn right, bitch!"
I crawled slowly over to Travis, Brandon and Jesse's boots dragging behind me, and kissed his feet. I thanked him for his cum as well.
"And what else, you worthless faggot?" Travis demanded.
I sighed. "Thank you for your piss, Sir."
"And what else?" Travis said, reaching over for the hanger.
I gagged a little at the thought of what he'd done. "Thank...thank you for your fart, Sir."
All three laughed. "Pathetic old faggot," Travis said. "Bet you loved having me fart in your face, huh. How did my ass gas taste, bitch?"
I couldn't respond. I couldn't. The entire thing was too degrading. I remained silent but pressed my lips to the skater punk's feet again, hoping he would leave me alone.
"Stand up, cunt," Travis ordered, the cruel tone returning to his voice. I stood slowly, my body aching from head to toe. I could feel three loads of young alpha male cum leaking out of my ass. The smell and taste of Travis's fart was still in my nostrils and mouth, mingled with the taste of my own ass slime and piss. As I stood, the boots again began dangle from my balls, stretching them towards my knees.
I stood in front of my tormenters, my head down and eyes on the ground. I was unable to make eye contact with any of them, not after the ways I'd been used. I wasn't sure I could ever make eye contact with any decent person again. What had I become? As I looked at the ground, I was shocked: through it all, my dick was still hard. Not just hard, but throbbing, rigid, and dripping precum like crazy.
Travis reached out with the hanger. He started using it to push my dick downward as far as possible, then releasing it to watch it spring back up. The guys laughed. "See, this disgusting perv loves it. Every bit of it," Travis laughed. Jesse was still recording the entire scene on his phone, preserving my shame for future amusement, no doubt.
Travis suddenly reared back his hand. Without warning, he brought the wire hanger down on the head of my dick, hard. The pain was excruciating, like high-voltage electricity shooting through my dick. It hurt so bad I wasn't even able to scream, the pain driving all the breath from my body. At the same time, though, as the pain was coursing through me, something terrible happened: I shot my load. A split second after Travis whipped my dick with the wire hanger, my balls emptied, shooting rope after rope of cum halfway across the room, just missing Travis. Even in that moment, I was grateful none hit him, as I'm sure the punishment for that would have been terrible, even by his cruel standards. I tried to hold it back even as it was happening. How humiliating, not only to cum in front of these former students, but to have it happen in such an utterly degrading way while they howled with laughter and recorded it.
It was the most powerful orgasm I ever remember having, even when I was younger. When I finally stopped spewing cum, all the strength left my body. I collapsed to my knees, completely spent.
When the three men stopped laughing, Brandon looked at me on the floor. "Hey fag! What the fuck? Don't be leaving your nasty queer cum all over my floor. Clean that shit up. Now!"
His floor. Right. It was his apartment now, not mine. Brandon had made that clear in no uncertain terms. I knew what he wanted. I crawled forward, dragging the boots with my balls, and licked up all of my cum from the floor. If it looked like it was going to miss a spot, Travis would put his foot near it and bring the hanger down on my ass. As painful as the hanger was originally, it was now worse by an order of magnitude due to all the beating my ass had taken throughout the night. After all my cum was cleaned up, Travis used the hanger to guide me back over to the coffee table, where he made me lick up any stray piss or cum, as well as any of my tears or precum which had dripped on the table.
Finally, it seemed, these guys were sated for a while. They sat down and relaxed. Travis demanded a foot massage, but mostly ignored me while the three of them talked, giving me a much-needed chance to recover. I couldn't help but wonder what was happening to me. What was I becoming? Was I really a fag? Was Brandon was merely exploiting something that already existed within me, something he could see and I couldn't? Or, was he turning me into the submissive bitch he wanted through sheer alpha dominance? I wasn't sure, but either way, I hated it. And yet...my body said something different. While my mind despised what was happening, my body seemed to crave the abuse, as evidenced by my explosive orgasm in the most humiliating way possible. What kind of fucked up things were going on in my brain?
After an hour or so, Jesse announced he needed to head home, since he had to work in the morning. Brandon snapped his fingers and ordered me to crawl to him with Jesse's boots. I crawled over, and Jesse untied his steel toed boots from around my balls. At least if I had to stand up, the weight would be significantly less. Brandon's combat boots were heavy, but not compared to Jesse's size 15 steel-toed boots. Jesse ordered me to put his socks and boots on for him, which I did.
"Give those boots a quick shine, faggot. Make sure none of your queer cum got on them. Can't have my buddy walking around with nasty faggot spooge on him," Brandon said.
I leaned over and licked Jesse's boots clean, making sure they shined. I kept licking until he finally stood up and said his goodbyes to the others. He ignored me, of course.
It was getting late, and I expected Travis to leave as well, but he showed no signs of departing, or even of putting his clothes back on. He seemed to think lounging around completely nude was the most natural thing in the world, despite the fact Brandon was still mostly dressed, albeit with his cock and balls hanging out of his jeans. While he and Brandon watched TV, Travis decided to have me worship his asshole again. When he sat on my face before, I was completely disgusted. This time was no different; his ass was even sweater and riper than it had been. The difference was that this time, he wasn't sitting on my face, but leaned back in a chair with his legs over the arms and his ass on the edge of the chair. Before, I'd just had his ass on my face; now, he was demanding I actually lick his hole, insisting I stick my tongue inside his shitter. Just the thought was enough to make we want to puke, and the smell of Travis's ass made me gag like it had before. But, as he had already proven, Travis was not one to be denied nor disobeyed. If anything, he was more demanding than Brandon, and much crueler. He threatened me with the hanger until I stuck out my tongue and started licking his ass crack.
"Look at that, dude," Travis said to Brandon. "Fucking pervert is cleaning out my shithole with his tongue. What a bitch!" he laughed. Travis ordered me to stick my tongue inside his asshole. When I hesitated, he brought the hanger down on my back repeatedly, until the pain was bad enough I finally complied. Travis let out a contented sigh as he relaxed back in the chair while I suffered at his feet, the foul taste of his ripe, sweaty asshole coating my tongue. I feared it was a taste I'd never get out of my mouth. How could anyone be this cruel to another person? Even with Jesse gone, Brandon and Travis continued to use me like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Once Travis was satisfied I'd cleaned his ass properly, Brandon ordered me to clean his. I crawled to him and started licking out his hole without being punished further. Apparently, this was something Brandon enjoyed a lot, because he made me keep my tongue in his ass for a long while.
It was getting late, and both men finally decided to get some sleep. I realized then that Travis was apparently going to spend the night. Great. Brandon headed to the bedroom, and ordered me to crawl behind him, which I did, still dragging his boots by my balls. Brandon stripped and climbed into what used to be my bed. I knelt on the floor next to the bed, confused. Was he expecting me to sleep in the bed with him?
"Um, Sir?" I asked hesitantly, "Where am I supposed to sleep?"
"Right where you are, fag," he replied. "Where else would a dog sleep except next to its master's bed?" He chuckled. "Seems to me that's about what you are. Though I like dogs," he snickered. "Some of my dirty clothes are over there behind you, cunt. You can use those if you need a pillow and shit. You're going to be doing my laundry anyway." With that, Brandon reached over and turned out the light. Within minutes I could hear him softly snoring, comfortable in my bed, now his, while I lay on the hard, cold floor, my body bruised, battered, and aching inside and out.
I couldn't believe this was my life now. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I found the pile of dirty clothes Brandon mentioned, and gathered some of his stuff together to form a small bed and pillow. The clothes reeked of his sweat, and the smell of Brandon's body odor was all around me: in my mouth from his cock, ass, and piss; on my body from him fucking me, and now even on what passed for my "bed". I closed my eyes, praying for a better day tomorrow, for a way out of this hell, and fell asleep.
I woke up with Brandon kicking me in the ribs. "Get up here bitch. I need to piss." He was sitting on the edge of the bed. I knelt up and opened my mouth. I've never been a morning person, so I couldn't imagine much worse that having a bully piss down my throat first thing in the morning. Brandon held his cock right on my lips and let loose his morning piss.
As foul as drinking piss had been the night before, at least that had been recycled beer. As I suddenly learned, no matter how bad that was, it was nothing compared to how nasty morning piss is. Brandon's morning piss was dark yellow and very pungent. It had a strong odor, and the flavor was terrible. I almost threw up just from the smell, but one look at Brandon's face told me exactly how bad the beating would be if I spit up his piss all over him. I closed my eyes and managed to choke it down. I thought it would never end; apparently, Brandon's bladder was very full. When his flow finally stopped, Brandon shook his cock a few times and dried it off on my face and hair, then shoved me aside as he walked towards the living room.
"Heel, bitch," he said, walking away. Great. Now I was not only being treated like a dog, but he was ordering me around like one, too. I crawled behind him, forgetting for a moment that his boots were still tied to my nuts. I think at some point my balls went numb during the night. As soon as I started to move, though, all the pain in my body came rushing back, and the boots began to drag along the floor as I crawled, renewing the pain in my poor nuts.
Travis was already awake, sitting naked on the couch where he'd slept, watching TV. Brandon was also naked, and joined him on the couch, ordering me to make them both some breakfast and coffee. I crawled into the kitchen, then stood the best I could, my aching balls tormented by every move of the swinging boots tied to them. I prepared breakfast for the three of us, and ate mine quickly in the kitchen, before they could think of some new humiliation for me. I carried their plates and food into the living room, then remained on my knees while they ate. Brandon decided to put me to work licking and sucking his toes.
When they were done, Travis suggested they get off before they started the day. Brandon ordered me back up on all fours on the coffee table, and they double-teamed me, one in my mouth, one fucking my asshole. Travis and Brandon took turns in my holes, pulling out and swapping, feeding me the cock that was just pulled out of my ass, while using my spit as lube for raping my hole. They kept it up for a good while, rotating positions every few minutes. Just as I got used to one of them in my ass, they'd change. Their cocks, while similar, were different enough to hurt in specific ways -- Travis hurt deeper, and especially liked fucking my anal ring, really stretching my sphincter with his mushroom head, while Brandon's massive tool just stretched me to the limit. Back and forth, back and forth, they kept pounding me in both ends. Between them, I figured I had about 18 inches of cock buried in me, but it felt like much more. What was worse, Brandon had picked up on Travis's trick of beating my balls while he fucked me to make my ass tighter, so now both of them took delight in slapping my stretched nuts as much as possible.
They finally finished, filling me with two fresh loads, Brandon's up my ass, and Travis's in my mouth. After I groveled on the floor and kissed their feet, thanking them each for their cum, Brandon finally untied his boots from my poor balls and ordered me to go take a shower, which I gladly did.
In the bathroom, I took a quick stock of my condition. I was stunned by what I saw: my ass and thighs were a crisscross of welts and handprints -- patterned welts from where they'd beat me with their belts, and smaller, finer, deeper marks and bruises from Travis's wire hanger, which continued up my back. My nutsack looked distended; I swear it was hanging lower than normal from the weight of those boots, and there were rope burns around my scrotum from the rubbing on the boot laces against my tender skin. My lips looked swollen from all the cock that had been rammed down my throat, and I could barely talk, my throat was so sore. Worst of all was a bright red mark on the head of my dick in the shape of Travis's wire hanger. It was painful and red, and looked like he'd branded my dick with the hanger. I took a warm shower, allowing the water to soothe my aching muscles, even though my ass was so tender it hurt to wash it. It felt good to wash the cum and piss off of me and out of my ass. I even let the water run into my mouth, hoping to wash away the taste of piss and cum.
I wasn't sure what to do after I finished, so I found Brandon in the bedroom and knelt at his feet.
"Bout time, faggot. OK, I've got some shit to do, then I have to work this afternoon. You're going with Trav when he gets back. He had to go get something, but he'll be back shortly. Until then, get in that fucking closet, asslicker, " Brandon said.
I was stunned. Not only was I going to be kept in the closet in my own apartment, but he was giving me to Travis? For an entire day? As unpredictable as Travis was, there was no telling what he would do to me. I began to tremble in fear. I leaned over and started kissing Brandon's feet, begging him to not leave me alone with Travis. He just laughed.
"Get used to it, bitch. You belong to me, and that means you belong to my buds as well, cunt. Now get in that fucking closet before I beat your ass."
My fate was sealed. I slowly crawled into the small closet and Brandon shut the door. I heard him brace something against the door and walk away. I tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. Apparently, I was trapped in here, in the dark. That's when the realization hit me.
This used to be my bedroom closet, but he'd made me remove my stuff and replace it with his. The closet was filled with Brandon's things, and now I was here, too. It was now entirely used for storing things that belonged to Brandon -- including me.
Thanks to all of you who have written to me about this story. I love to hear from readers!
Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com