Breeding Bitches

Breeding Bitches Chapter 4

This story is a work by a previous Nifty author, Dave, who has agreed to allow me to rewrite and revise and continue his original story "Taking Tops". I do NOT have his permission to share his email, but I am personally happy to hear from anyone that wants to comment or critique – just don't be an asshat about it. I loved the premise of his story so much, and it hit home on so many levels (I actually had to ask if he knew me personally) that I couldn't just let it sit unfinished and idle.

If you don't like or are offended by taboo and D/s subjects - move on. This story is MOSTLY fiction, although there are definite elements that have happened in my life, at least. Any resemblance by name or description to anyone else dead or alive is purely coincidental. If you are not of legal age or if this content is not legal in your area, please do not read this.

No condoms were hurt during the making of this story. Seriously though, it is assumed all characters are on PrEP, and I although I do not judge whether the readers practice safe sex or not – no one else's place to judge but your own – but I do hope that you are sensible and take precautions regarding the spread of diseases. Please stay safe, and remember that your body is your own temple. Treat it as such. I hope you enjoy the story and I welcome constructive advice and criticism. I also love a good compliment too. Email me at naughtyslutstories@gmail.com

Please consider donating to Nifty! We need this service, and your donations help. Thank you

Thanks, P. *insert favorite heart emoji*

Main Character: Pete, 25, 6", black hair and green eyes. Swimmer's build, Gym-honed, lightly hairy body with a well-developed and toned chest and arms, much larger than average and naturally smooth bubble butt. Average (around 5", but insists it's 6" and average thickness) dick but knows how to use it.

Breeding Bitches, Chapter Four

After the public spectacle of my dick being locked up, to which at least 30 men had witnessed, Matt and Kevin had calmed things down a bit, slowly teasing me, always with one of them in full body contact, squeezing my nips, petting my ass, lightly fingering my hole. We each had a couple more drinks, my nervousness ramping up but mostly being assuaged by their attentiveness.

Kevin came to one side of me, started working hard on my tits. "Time to get you ready." I whimpered as his mouth latched onto mine, and I felt Matt behind me, lifting up my cropped t. We broke the kiss long enough for Matt to completely remove it, Kevin's fingers never leaving their twist and pinch working of my nipples. I was sweating lightly, music turned back up and blaring in the background, while they were manhandling me in the middle of a fucking bar.

With just that single article of clothing gone, standing there in just my neoprene jock, my ass on display for anyone that cared to look, I suddenly felt so humiliated. There I was, down to practically nothing, while Kevin and Matt still had their clothing on.

"Yo! You boys gonna fuck that slut, you know where to take it! Not in the main bar!" The bartender, a big burly dude, probably 40s with a beefy, killer fucking body yelled at us across the bar.

"No worries, Max! We're taking the cunt home." Matt yelled back over the music, to an audible chorus of `damn', `shit', `oh, come on', and a few other expletives.

Hearing a complete stranger call me a slut sent my sense of humiliation into overdrive. I let out a loud, high pitched `AH' into Kevin's mouth after hearing it; He pulled back, looked at me, and gave me an evil smile.

"Mmm...Hey, Matt, seems like our boy likes knowing that all these men here think he's a slut. You like that boy, you like it when Real Men can see you for what you are? A bitch? A slut? A bottom? They all think that, you know." He paused, pointing around the bar. "Each and every one of them pegged you for what you truly are the moment you walked through that door." Pause again, turning his mouth back to me and coming in so close I could feel the humidity in his breath on my lips, and gently continuing. "They knew you are nothing but a cock fucking whore the moment they saw you."

I trembled, then felt a large stream of precum flow into my jock, and as Kevin said this, Matt jammed a spit lubed finger into my hole. "Time to go home, bitch." Matt announced, using his finger jammed up my hole to walk me to the front door, and out into the street. Everyone turned and watched my complete debasement, my utter degradation.

My fall from dominance was a public spectacle.

I was crimson by the time we walked through the gawking and leering crowd and out to the street. On the way out, I recognized a face. Brandon. A guy (he was WAY too young to be in here, but I knew from personal experience he had fake IDs) I tried but failed to seduce into being my bitch. One of only a couple. We had ended up just giving each other blow jobs that night, since neither of us would bottom. Oh, how times have changed...I looked in his eyes, which were filled with glee and lust, seeing me like this. He just nodded, a massive superior and knowing smirk forming on his face, and he turned back to the bar as I was ceremoniously marched out the front door, my asshole being used like a steering wheel.

Apparently, one of them had called for a lift at some point.

The ride took us to a very ritzy neighbor, Alamo Square. We pulled up to a house that had to have cost at least $20 million. Matt and Kevin got out, and with my utter humiliation and sexual frenzy set aside for a moment, I sat in the car dumb struck. "You guys live, here?" I asked, jaw dropped and just staring at Matt and Kevin.

"Yep. Not much of it is any of your business faggot, now get out of the car. You'll know more when we decide to tell you. The driver has better things to do than wait for your pussy to get a move on." Matt ordered.

I got out, apologizing to the driver, unaware that it was a reflexive response to the words Matt had just said to me. "Good boy. You apologized to that Man, all of your own accord, when we corrected you. That's very good. See? There's your natural born submissive side, peeking out. Let's see if he wants to show his true face." Kevin said, leading me inside the beautiful house.

They led me up to a bedroom, which looked like it was a set. Cameras were set up all around, the lighting flickered on, and I could tell this was a professional set. I started trembling a bit. "Guys...I..." looking around, a knot formed in my stomach. "...I'm not sure I'm down for this. You're not going to record this, are you?"

"You better fucking believe it, boy." Matt walked up to me, grabbing me and forcing me back toward the bed. "You're prime property. There's no fucking way we're not going to film you officially becoming our bitch. And before you ask, no, you don't have a say so in the matter. Now shut your trap, and get out of those boots. Socks and jock off too. In my house, you are allowed ONLY either underwear or completely naked, at all times."

For some reason, I started rushing to obey. It was like my instincts were being taken over by someone – something – else. I didn't understand it, but it actually felt...good? It felt right. Stripping everything off, I stood there in just the chastity device, nervously shifting my weight from one foot to the other every few moments, while I watched Matt and Kev get everything going, my mostly flaccid cock pulsing in its plastic prison. I couldn't deny how immensely, insanely turned on I was right then.

The laptop started up. All the cameras had green lights on. Light sources were repositioned to get the maximum effect of the area directly around the bed and the bed itself.

When Matt and Kev were satisfied, looking at the screen of me standing there nervously fidgeting about, they stripped off their shirts, and started stalking toward me. I felt like a piece of prime rib being thrown into a lion's den.

"All right, Pete." Matt said, coming in close to me, staring me directly in the eyes. "Here are the rules. You do what we say."

"Yes Sir." I said, reflexively, instinctually, completely caught off guard by the power of his voice, natural scent, and presence. "And...?"

"That's it, bitch. You do what we say. That's the rules. I'm done fucking around with your pansy ass, acting like a bitch, being a cunt to us when we're just trying to set you free." He slapped my face, then grabbed my throat roughly, partially blocking my breathing. I brought my hands up to his arm, trying to remove it. Jesus fuck, this motherfucker is a LOT stronger than he looks, I couldn't even budge his arm, no matter how hard I tried, and I WAS trying. I stopped struggling, and just returned his gaze and was happy that I could bring in little tufts of breath. "When we're simply trying to show you what you really are. Our faggot. Our bottom. From now on, if you step out of line, I'm going to beat you. And I mean it, boy. I..." Grip on my neck tightening slightly. "...will..." Tightens more. "...beat..." Tighter still. "...your..." More, getting somewhat hard to draw in breath now. "...fucking..." Starting to panic. "...sissy..." True fear in my eyes. "...ass..." Holding steady, but lungs are starting to feel it. He leans in even closer, and says the next words he yells/growls in my face, boring into me with his eyes. "...to a fucking pulp, you little bitch. Now, remember that. I'm not joking, am I Kev?" Seriously worried now. My lungs are burning.

"Nope. He almost sent one boy to the hospital. You don't want that, Petey boy." Kevin assured.

Finally, throwing me onto my back on the bed, I landed unceremoniously, coughing and gasping for breath. I was scared shitless, without a doubt. Matt had just completely physically overpowered me, like I was nothing. My defenses against him were as solid as a wet paper bag. I lay there, trembling for a minute, while he waited for me to catch my breath.

"Do you understand, Pete?" Matt said.

"Yes Sir. I understand." There was no other response. I knew it, looking at his face.

"Good. Do you accept us as your Masters?"

"Yes Sir. I accept you as my Masters." Again, no other response was valid, from the look on his face.

"Good. This is the way it is now. No more bullshit, slut." Kevin piped in. "Now get off your ass, get over here, and get us out of these clothes.

I scrambled to obey. I had them stripped in no time, only pause to gawk at those massive cocks, as they sprang free of their underwear and slapped me in the face. Felt like a couple sledgehammers smacking my head. Their smells...oh god, the natural odors of their crotches almost made me pass out. It was amazing. I felt my ass throb as the pheromones hit my olfactory senses fully.

In that moment, I knew I would do what they wanted from then on. I was, truly, their boy. Every last measure of self-control and will turned to dust. I was going to be their bitch tonight. On camera.

Matt told me to get on the bed, on all fours. Kevin kneeled in front of me and put his cock to my lips, and held up a finger. I took that as an order to wait. Matt came up behind me, jammed a lubed finger in my ass.

"You're awfully clean back here for a `top' bitch. What's your secret?" Matt asked.

"I started using this fiber supplement called Pur, Sir. Keeps things flowing well, but staying pretty clean back there is one of the benefits they advertise as well."

"When did you start that?" Kevin asked.

"I think...right after the night..."

Loud chuckle from Kevin. "Yeah. See? That's it, right there. You weren't even consciously aware of it, but you were starting to think like our bitch already. But, there's more that you need to learn. You'll need to learn to douche. We require it when we're going to play heavy...but not tonight. Tonight, we're both going to breed you. We're both going to claim you. And everyone on our website will see it. There's also a live feed to Powerhouse."

My eyes widened, I started shaking my head `no'. Jesus...all those guys...Brandon I panicked, remembering his leering face...they were going to get a bird's eye view of my debasement. It was going to be both private. And public. What did I get myself into? Why am I not putting up a fight? I raised my hand to my still tender neck. Oh, yeah. But...was that the only reason? I knew the answer...

Matt was apparently through prepping my hole. He got into position behind me, massive beer can of a cock kissing my entrance, leaning over my back and whispered in my ear. "Tell us how this feels. Look into the camera on the right of Kevin, and tell us what you're feeling, cuntboy."

Shame and regret, humiliation and self-loathing coursed through me, as I did as Matt ordered. My face must have been pathetic to onlookers, because besides those emotions, I also felt desire, need, as I looked into the camera and spoke. "I need you Sirs. I need you...to use me. You feel so good, fingering my hole..." Kevin slapped my face and looked sternly down at me. I knew what he wanted. "...my pussy..." Fire engine red burned my skin. "...Please, Matt, fuck my pussy, please, Kev, let me taste your cock..." I was gyrating my hips on Matts cock, catching the glint of a bead of precum that had just welled up on Kev's cock, looking up pleading.

"Go ahead, get it." Kevin said.

I licked that dollop of pre off his cockhead like a hungry puppy wanting to, but not able to reach his mom's teat. Electricity flowed from my tongue into the rest of my body. I knew it was over. I was going to willingly be their bitch. Now. And whenever they wanted it.

Matt started pushing in. The burning, oh my god, the fire. My ass was being pried open by a freight train. Kevin told me to look into the camera as before. I did so, my mouth open, my face contorted into a painful grimace.

"Oh, god, Matt...It's so fucking huge...please..."

"Please what, bitch?"

"Please, I want it in me, but you're fucking massive...please, take it easy." I pleaded. I had just said, to them AND to the web and bar audience, that I wanted his enormous cock inside me.

"Then beg for it, cunt." Kevin ordered.

"Please, I'm begging you...AH!..." as Matt relentlessly kept shoving that 9" monster inside me. "...please go slow, I'm not used to this. I'm a top...I don't...AH!"

"You were never a top, Peter. Get that out of that pretty little head. You were born for this." Kevin said flatly.

"Yessir...AH! Oh, my ass...oh, my hole..." Matt kept shoving into me, millimeter by millimeter, slowly opening me up.

"Bear down. Remember what we taught you before. And keep looking into the camera. Give them yourself, show them who you are. What you are." Kevin coached, seemingly content to watch my humiliation and lust for the moment.

"Yes Sir." I did as instructed and all of a sudden, Matt was sliding in easier, and the searing pain lessened to a hot throbbing in the ring of my asshole. My pussy. "Oh, jesus, oh fuck, it's massive. God it feels incredible!" I opened my eyes wide, starting to moan at the unseen audience.

"Fuck an egg, this pussy is fucking tight, Kev. Sweet fuck! Ah, yeah..." Matt said as he finally sunk all the way home.

"Holy shit your cock is amazing in my pussy!." I screamed, and it was.

"You damn fucking right, bitch. Now hold on for dear life, you're going to need to."

Immediately, without any further warning, Matt started pulling almost all the way out, then slamming back in. I started gasping, panting, moaning. I remembered myself though, and kept my face and gaze (when my eyes were open and not rolled up into my head), turned toward my audience. The audience of my fall from grace, because that's truly what happened.

A while into the fuck, I was a babbling mess. Barely a man, IF that. Kevin stuck his dick in my mouth every so often, and I nursed some precum from it, electric jolts going through my body from his delicious nectar. They would ask me how I felt and I would automatically turn to the camera, on autopilot stammering out "Yeah, oh yeah it feels so good, please fuck me, please fuck my hole..." Slap! "...please fuck my pussy! Please, please, harder in my pussy Matt!".

Kevin had moved behind me, watching Matt's cock relentlessly piledriving my pussy. Yes, that's truly what it is now. It's a pussy for Men such as these, to use and please themselves in. The fight was gone out of me, I was a base whore. I AM a base whore. I needed it so bad, I was driving my ass back hard as he was thrusting forward. I couldn't get him deep enough, it was like there was a fire inside me that only his cock, his cum, could squelch.

I'm sure the men watching were enjoying it, I thought dimly. I know, if the situation were reversed, I would be stroking right now, watching this. I was at a point where a bottom isn't even a man anymore. I was a begging, braying, moaning slut. I was barely aware when Matt picked up speed, and after a savage thrust into my pussy, I felt his heat, his seed, spread into me. He quickly pulled out, as Kevin unceremoniously rammed straight up inside me, forcing a wail out, and Matt scooted around the bed to my head, spurting several loads on my gasping, half-lidded, fuck-lust engrossed face, painting and marking me as theirs. For them. For the audience.

Kevin kept pummeling my hole, relentlessly and brutally assaulting my prostate. Below me, swinging wildly about, my locked and forgotten (I hadn't even remembered it was there until I felt a buildup of pressure) dick, started spraying my load. It blew everywhere, all over my legs, chest, sheets below me.

"Oh don't stop don't stop oh fuck me please keep fucking me don't ever stop fucking me Sir! PLEASE!" I screeched, high pitched girly sounding voice. "AAAHHHHH!" I was beyond control. Beyond caring what I looked and sounded like. Beyond anything but a pure bottom bitch.

My ass convulsed as I came, once again hands-free, and it clamped down on Kev's cock. "Ah, fuck!" He yelled, and started fucking a massive load into me.

"Oh, yeah, I feel you breeding me Kev! Oh holy hell it's so HHHOOOTTT!" My eyes rolled up a final time in my head from the onslaught of sensory input. I think I was looking at the camera, as I had been ordered. I don't know. In my fuck lust, my brain was just on auto pilot.

It took us all a couple minutes to regain our senses. I felt Kev pull out of my distended cunt. And it certainly was just that now. A pussy. A cunt. I tried to clamp down. I felt like he and Matt had given me a present, and I didn't want to lose any of that precious Man seed.

They ruffled my hair, got off the bed. I fully regained all my senses, and the full realization of what just happened hit me. I wanted to hide in shame, but Matt saw my turmoil, and spoke up before I could run and hide in shame. "You're not going anywhere yet, slut. Stay put, look at your audience." I did, as ordered, red with embarrassment. "Tell them what you are."

"I'm a bottom, Sirs. I'm a slut with a pussy for Men to use."

"Good, now thank them for watching." Kevin said.

"Thank you for watching." And, as a sudden inspiration hit me, and the shame faded slightly, hoping to please these two gods that had just defiled me, I added. "I hope you were entertained. I definitely was."

This got a raised eyebrow and a half smile of approval from Matt and Kevin. "Good bitch." Matt said, then added: "Now get up. We're done with you tonight. But you'll be back here tomorrow to clean up this fucking mess your little locked dick made. We don't clean up after bitches." I hurried to comply as Kevin walked over to an armoire, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pair of underwear, tossing them to me, then opened another drawer and pulled out a steel butt plug.

Walking behind me and bending me over, me facing the camera still, and just jammed the plug in, no lube necessary. It felt cold to begin with, and started warming quickly. He brought me upright again, and Matt said in the distance, near the door: "Recognize those?" He nodded to the underwear I was grasping in one hand. And I did. They were Marks. A pair of mesh N2N black briefs. They were my favorites on him, made him look REAL slutty. The look on my face must have been confirmation.

"Yeah. We had that slut over here the night before he left. We always keep our bitches underwear, and we're keeping your little neoprene jock strap too. They're our trophies, so to speak." Kevin said as he snatched the mesh briefs out of my hand, and picked up my jock. "Only difference is that whore had other clothing on when he got here that night. You didn't...that little top you had seems to have disappeared somewhere between here and the bar. Chalk it up to a lack of insight on your part. But...you have boots and socks..." As he handed me my keys and wallet, I was beginning to dread where this was going. It must have been evident on my cum covered face, because they both laughed. Kevin, turning to the camera, said: "If anyone sees the slut prancing around, trying to get home, feel free to give him a ride. But no fucking. The plug stays put until further notice." He commanded the audience.

I was mortified. My debasement and public deflowering complete, I hung my head. I knew what this meant. I had done it to a guy before, although not in front of an audience. Seemed like in another life now, but it had happened. I slowly pulled on my socks. Then my boots, laced them up, then stood back up. I might as well take this like the fuck slut I am now. No sense in fighting, they would just kick my ass anyway.

"Good bitch. I see you're learning." Matt seemed to have read my mind. But, for good measure, he walked over to me, hand clamping around my neck once more, me immediately and futilely struggling against his power. "Just remember. Do not forget. You're our whore now."

"Ye...ir..." I vainly struggled to get out, most of my air passage blocked by his strong grip.

"Good bitch. Now get out. If we call, you had best answer this time." Kevin said.

Matt released his grip, patted my cheek affectionately, and added: "We're good to our boys. The ones that don't piss us off, at least. Now, do as your Master said and get the fuck out whore." He smiled.

I calmly (on the outside...on the inside I was a fucking mess) walked down into the foyer, and out the front door, which slammed behind me and I heard the click of a couple locks.

I shivered, not because it was cold. Because there I stood outside, wearing nothing but boots, a plug, and a hot pink chastity device, trying to figure out how to get home. Some cum had escaped my pussy before he plugged me, and it was running down my legs, my hair in disarray from the brutal sex I just had, face glazed with Sir's load. If anyone saw me, there would be no doubt as to what I was. Sir's slut.

I cautiously made my way home like that. It was a long way. I had to duck behind dumpsters, cars, jump behind hedges. At one point, a car load of guys drove by, catching me unawares, yelling out the window "Holy shit, what a fucking mess! You open for business, cunt boy?" I took off in a run, sprinting around a corner, down an alley, up another street and back into an alcove. The same car drove by slowly, they were looking for me.

From then on, I stuck to side streets as much as I could, preferring not to be walking along under the glaring street lights. I had to dodge a few police cars, but thankfully I didn't run across many. After what seemed like hours, I finally made it to my apartment building (admittedly much lower rent than the grandeur I had just been in). Thankfully, there was no doorman in my low-rent building, and being quite late at night I was pretty sure I could get my cum and plug stuffed pussy and cum glazed face into my apartment without being seen. I silently crept up the stairwell (instead of using the elevator), and upon reaching my floor and walking quietly down the hall, I saw someone standing by my door.

Brandon. Shit. I didn't need this right now. I knew he had probably watched the whole affair.

Speaking too loudly for my tastes, Brandon spoke up. "So, the slut made it home without being arrested?"

Red faced, I rushed to my door, unlocking it, and pushing him inside, closing the door while he was laughing his ass off. I stood there, staring at him. God he was a hot looking young stud. Soccer player. Dreamy face. Smelled like booze at the moment though.

"So, it finally happened. You've finally made it to bitch-level. I'm really glad I decided to go out tonight. I wouldn't have missed this for the world." He said bluntly.

"Look, Brandon, I've had one hell of a night..." I started.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm just really here to do one thing. Bend over." He ordered. Someone several years younger than me, ordering me around...but I obeyed.

"Yep. Plug is still there." He slapped it's base, eliciting a painful hiss out of me as the tremors went through the plug and straight into my poor, abused ass. "Good boy. How does it feel?"

"Good...stretched, but good, um...Sir?" I answered truthfully.

"Yep. That's a good title for me. For now." He stepped back from me, my eyes wandering down to his crotch. He laughed. "Fuck. You're a hungry slut, aren't you? Well, forget it. For tonight. I think you need a while before you get the pleasure of this..." He lewdly grabbed his crotch. "...besides, Matt and Kev made it pretty clear to everyone. No more fucks for your pussy tonight, until further notice." His cell beeped. "Speak of the devil. Just a sec..." He answered. "Uh-huh. Yep. It's still in. Yeah. I think she likes it..." glancing and grinning at me. `She'??? He must be on drugs. "...Yeah. I'll tell him. So, did you give any thought to what I proposed earlier? Yeah? Ok. I'll be over tomorrow and we will discuss it more. Talk to you later." He hung up. Folded his arms across his lithe, muscular chest. Stood there for a few minutes, staring at me, his expression unreadable. I started to wilt under his gaze, then he spoke. "I suppose you're wondering what that call was about. Don't you worry that pretty little pussy over it. It's Man business, not fag business. Now. Here's what's going to happen. I'm staying here tonight. There will not be any sex. I already had a blow job from a drag queen..." I knew he loved drag queens. "...earlier, while I was watching your little performance. So, no. You're not getting any of my 11 inch..." And he wasn't lying. It was a fucking behemoth. I'm just glad Kevin and Matt, as huge as they are, weren't as hung as this little shit in front of me now. I would be in the hospital, if they were. "...pleasure tonight. Or anytime soon. But. Things will be changing here. You'll get the full details tomorrow, so much as you need to know at least. Now be a good slut, take off those boots and socks, and get your whore ass to bed. I'll be joining you in a few minutes."

I rushed to comply. I took off my boots...god my feet reeked. Always happens with tube socks and boots. Climbed into bed and laid there, covers not drawn up me yet, on my back with my arms spread out, hands laced behind my head on the pillow. It's like I was trying to be seductive. But with what, I thought as I glanced down at my locked dick. Doesn't matter.

Some water running in the kitchen, the fridge door opening and closing. Brandon came into the bedroom, stripped off his jeans, t shirt, socks and runners, standing there in an old school jock strap. Fuck the kid is amazing, I thought to myself as my eyes studied every square inch of his body. I know men older than him that couldn't touch his smoking hot body. He chuckled.

"If I had truly known you were such a hungry faggot, I would have had your ass tied to the bed the night we met. I mean, I always suspected. Been shadowing you for a while. You're the one that got away." He said cryptically. I furrowed my brow. Another chuckle. "Yeah. You think you were the only one playing the `flipping'..." What my friends and I called it. When we took a top and fucked them so good, they forgot about being a top at all after that. "...game? Naw man. I've been doing it since I hit puberty." Hearty laugh. "You're a fucking newbie in my game, boy. And it's about time you were brought down." His mirth turned to malevolence in the blink of an eye. "You see. When a person wants something enough, has the money to invest, knows the right people, and has enough patience for the game to be played out fully..." He got on the bed, inched toward me slowly, then pounced on me. "...He ALWAYS gets what he wants." His face to mine, his nose slightly brushing mine. His mouth dives onto mine, his tongue battering its way passed my lips, he kisses me passionately. Then pulls back, flips me on my side, and spoons up behind me.

For the second time that day, I find myself being easily physically overpowered. Maybe it's psychology. Maybe it's actual physical strength. Maybe a mix of the two? I don't know. What I do know is I feel his strength as he manhandles me slightly. And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I'm no match for him.

"You WILL be mine, Peter. Go ahead. Try to fight. I enjoy the struggle..." His arms come around my chest, constricting me, I fidget nervously and tremble. "...you'll learn the truth soon enough boy. Now, let's go to sleep. It's been a very long night for me, and I'm sure your little pansy ass needs the rest too. We'll talk more in the morning."

"Yes Sir." I don't know where it came from, but I sensed it was the appropriate thing to squeak out, as his arms compressed my chest and his body pressed against my back and ass, long legs snaking over and entangling mine. We fell asleep.

In the morning, I felt some fiddling around my hole. As I grew aware, I felt the steel plug still lodged inside my hole. He was moving my cheeks this way or that, spreading them.

"Well, good morning slut."

"Good morning...Sir."

"Just checking your pussy. Looks like the plug is sitting nicely in there, no distressed areas around your pussy lips." He said, happily.

"Would you not call it that?" I said, annoyance in my voice.

BAM. His fist connected with my jaw so fast, I wasn't aware of what happened till after I shook off the blow. "You ever speak to me again like that, and I'll make Matt and Kevin seem like field mice. I'm helping you, you ungrateful cunt." His face, suddenly inches from mine, was a mask of rage. I flinched back, holding my arms out in front of me, in submission and protection. It was a useless gesture. He grabbed my wrists, pinned them above my head and his face got within an inch of mine. "Don't test me, Peter. Got it, bitch?"

"Yes Sir." I said, with a slight sob. My jaw was starting to ache.

"Get up. Make me coffee, put it on your coffee table, then get in your bathroom, remove the plug and clean your cunt out. You have douches for the bottoms you used to fuck here?" I nodded yes. "I want that thing clean. Then, shower, shave, and get your ass in the kitchen. Two eggs, fried. Get going."

I sprinted to do what He ordered. I had to stop and read the enema box, never actually having taken one myself. I cleaned the plug as I waited for it to run its course, showered and shaved, then cooked him his breakfast. I didn't even bother cooking something for myself. I'm not sure why. I served him his breakfast at the kitchen bar and waited to make sure he was happy with it.

"Good job. Now, get in your bedroom. You'll notice the lace thong I pulled out of your dresser on the bed..." He looked up at me, I blanched... "That was Mark's, wasn't it?"

"Yes Sir."

"We'll have to get you more of those today. You don't get to wear anything too masculine now. Pussyfaggots like you shouldn't ever wear anything masculine. And that's what you are. A pussyfaggot. You're a fag, you have a pussy. Get used to it."

My head spun as I walked into the bedroom, saw the lilac colored thong on the bed, wondering how I went from being a butch top...to being fucked by Mark and Kevin...and now some punk kid named Brandon was calling me a pussyfaggot. This day hasn't started out well. Rubbing my sore jaw, I decided not to push it, so I slipped the lace up my legs, over my locked junk, into my sore crack, and..."Put that fucking plug back in too. That cunt is going to have to be a LOT loser when I fuck it, or you'll be a bloody mess by the time I'm through." I stopped, went into the bathroom, retrieved the plug, lubed it up and had a hell of a time getting it back in my sore, puffy hole. Succeeding, I slipped the thong back up and joined him at the kitchen bar.

"Brandon..." I started. He looked at me, and the look said `this bitch better chose his words carefully. So I did. "...Sir. I'm not trying to be out of my place here, but I'm really confused on all of this. I mean, I was just having sex with Matt and Kev...Yes, I agreed to some stuff, I guess, but..."

"I know. I also told you not to worry about it. It will all be clear in the near future. For now, just do as you're told. And if you ask a question, be respectful about it." He sighed, putting his empty plate aside, and looked at me again. "Look, Peter, the next few days are going to be rough for you. I won't lie. But you willingly submitted. You aren't some ridiculous `slaveboy'. That's not your role. But you are a sub. A boy. And you require training to be a better one. Because right now, frankly, you're shit. So. Just do as I'm telling you, and later as Matt and Kevin are telling you. And it will make it easier on you."

I had my doubts, and they must have been pretty easy to read on my face. Brandon spoke again.

"Answer me honestly. Did you enjoy the sex last night?"

I remembered. It was mind blowing. "Yes. Very much, as much as it's paining me to admit that right now."

"And that's normal. You have been living a lie and convinced yourself of your role in relation to other guys. It wasn't right though, was it?" He waited as I reluctantly shook my head no. "You discovered how good you felt. You seem like you have already accepted wearing your little device. At least you haven't bitched about it..." I almost said something but decided to ask later. "You were murmuring `mmm...fuck me' this morning as I was checking the plug. I can see how much you want this, even if you don't. Even if you're not allowing yourself to see how much you want this right now, I know it's what you are Pete." He put his hand on my shoulder and looked deep in my eyes. "So, just trust me. If I have to correct you, it's going to be painful, as you've already found out." I nodded, massaging my aching jaw. "So, my advice is this. If you want this to go smoothly for you, just go with it. Do what feels natural. I see the sub coming out in you, like it's embarrassed to show its face. But it's there. Let him be free, and I promise your life is going to be worlds better."

I looked down, embarrassed and getting slightly emotional. He picked my chin up with his fist, and a small tear trickled down my cheek. But, for some reason, my mood shifted quick. I saw a certain kindness and compassion in his eyes at that moment, and for the first time in weeks, I smiled, actually happy. "Yes Sir."

He showered, then we got dressed, him in his clothes from last night, me being told to put on some slightly sheer running shorts, a tight tank and flip flops. He also stopped for a minute and told me to go get a trash bag. He was going thru my dresser, with a pile of boxers, boxer briefs, briefs and jockstraps laying on the floor beside him. There was literally nothing left for me to wear, besides this old pair of Mark's that I currently had on. "Put those in the trash bag. That a faggot would wear these is offensive to me." I complied, and on our way down he grabbed the bag and flung it in a dumpster, just as the garbage truck was pulling up. First stop, his house. Once again, my eyes popped out of my head and my mouth hung open. "It's the `rents place. Not mine. My condo is under renovation for the next 3 weeks. I'll be right out, just need to change." 10 minutes later he came out, sporting a black button up stretched over his muscles, jeans and boots. Mouthwatering. Both the description, and what was happening to me right then. He was fucking stunning. I never remembered him looking quite this hot. Blond hair, slightly spiked into a faux-hawk, ice blue eyes cutting into me, knowing what kind of lust he was stirring. He got back into my car, grabbed my phone, punched something into google maps, and told me to drive.

We arrived at a tailor shop I had never even knew existed. Brandon and I went in, and introduced me to the tailor, who took us into a large changing booth, where I had to strip. All of my measurements were taken, the tailor occasionally jotting them down.

I was led back out into the shop and told to wait by the door, as Brandon and the tailor had a discussion that was apparently none of my business. I noticed Brandon hand him a key, and he stated that he had several things already that would fit perfectly, but we would have to wait a week or two for the specialty items. Brandon asked about the underwear, and the tailor told him he had the perfect things for me. He gave his thanks for the business, and we left.

Then he told me to take him to Matt and Kevin's house, and was pretty silent on the way. When we arrived, Kevin answered the door and let us in. Looking me up and down, commanding me to strip to the thong and bend over.

"How's his cunt holding up?" Kevin spoke to Brandon.

"Looked great this morning. But he's going to need to be used to a good stretch. I don't like getting blood on my cock, and if he's not it's definitely going to happen." Brandon responded.

"Yeah. You're packing a mean cunt wrecker there, pal." Kevin smiled at him. "Well, Pete? Don't you have a bedroom to clean up?" Looking at me.

"Yes Sir." I went immediately to it. Stripped the bed, carried them out (Kevin had to stop his conversation with Brandon, and he looked slightly annoyed...I was hoping I didn't screw up already) and with some help found the laundry room. Taking care of that, I went back to the bedroom making sure all the havoc from last night was cleaned up.

After making sure the place was spotless, I headed back downstairs. Kevin saw me approaching and pointed to a chair near the main door. I took that as a hint that I wasn't to be included in whatever he and Brandon were talking about. Which seemed to be a lively conversation. They only looked and/or pointed at me infrequently, but most often they were laughing casually or seemed to be discussing friendly matters.

Instead of sitting there focusing my attention on them, I thought back to the events of the past couple days. I admit, I was a little shocked at my point A to point B. Top to bottom. I couldn't deny it at all at this point...I remember getting my pussy cored out, the feelings of the hands-free orgasm washing over me, and I actually shuddered in my seat just from remembering it. Precum leaked through the lace, which I scooped up (I didn't want it to get on Matt & Kev's furniture...this stuff looked like one piece cost more than my living room set) and fed it to myself, enjoying its fruity and salty tang. I have to admit I was a bit worried about the vids last night. What if my clients or one of the people at the Beverage Distributor I worked for saw them? Would I be fired? So many uncomfortable possibilities where that was concerned. And I was becoming increasingly concerned about the chastity device. Not that it was uncomfortable, far from it, but I didn't like being denied access to my cock...although this often and sudden horniness that it brought me was pretty interesting. And the way the device enveloped me...kept me warm, feeling safe? It was such an odd, and completely foreign experience, I couldn't fully wrap my head around it. So, did I really dislike the denial?

I sat there for a while, not sure how long, looking down at my locked package. Often, running a finger over the device, to see how it felt "feeling my dick" while I couldn't "feel" it at all. It was kinda mind blowing, truthfully. I grabbed the whole package thru the lace in my hand, the whole thing fitting easily in one palm. I splayed my legs out a bit, looking down at it with searching and wondering eyes, hefting it and feeling it.

I was brought out of my thoughts by a chuckle, Brandon's. He and Kevin were staring at me with grins.

"You weren't trying to play with yourself, were you?" Brandon inquired, with a grin on his face.

"No Sir. I was just..." searching for the right words. "...feeling it. It feels so different."

"But not bad or uncomfortable?" Kevin inquired seriously, his face straitening.

"No Sir, nothing like that...just...I don't know, it feels so foreign to normal."

"Boy, `normal' for you is going to be what abnormal used to be for you. It's changing. There's no going back. I could tell, earlier when you were eating your own precum, you were thinking about last night. There is no going back for you now, Peter. Just acceptance." Kevin stated.

"Yes Sir. I was kind of wondering..." I stopped for his approval. "...when is the device coming off?"

Kevin and Brandon exchanged glances. Brandon nodded, and Kevin said: "It's not coming off. That's one of the things we just discussed. Noticing how you were petting it, almost affectionately, feeling it out here, it's something we think is going to be as close to permanent as possible. You're going to have to learn to deal with it. I suggest you find friends that understand the ins and outs, and how to live in chastity. It's part of you now, boy."

"Just go with it, Pete. Trust me. This is for your own good. And, seeing as how you've already discovered how to cum anally, from your prostate, you really don't need to be unlocked now. We are the ones that will provide you that pleasure. When we want to." Brandon added.

Not that I really had a choice, but what they were saying made sense. "Yes Sirs." Why wasn't I upset about this? I just don't get it. Just then, I felt a massive dollop of precum pulse out of my locked cock, quickly bringing my fingers down to catch it before it spilled onto the furniture, I brought my hand up and was going to lick it, before Brandon stopped me, grabbed my wrist, pulled me out of the chair, and licked my fingers of the precum. My legs quaked at that, he locked his eyes on mine as his tongue was running across my fingers, staring into my soul.

In that moment, sexually or personally, I had never felt so immediately and immensely connected to another human being in my life. There was definitely something there.

"Delicious. You are absolutely scrumptious, Pete. I'm going to..." Brandon trailed off, didn't finish his thought, releasing my hand, and giving me the warmest smile I've seen on him yet.

Brandon's phone beeped. Brandon looked at Kevin, then me. "That would be my limo. I'll talk to you later, Kevin." And, pulling me in for a very passionate kiss, added: "And I'll be seeing you soon, slut. Be a good boy. I don't want to have to punish you...much." And with that, he stepped out the door, and was off.

Kevin turned my shell-shocked form to him, smiled and shook his head. "You're going to have to learn to control that slut lust of yours in public, Petey boy. That was just pathetic." He laughed. But, enough of that. He half bent me over, grabbed the plug, eased it out, turned my ass toward him, pulled his cock out of his shorts, and rammed it all the way up me in one thrust. Thank god the plug had me loosened, or this would be sheer hell.

He pumped away quickly and vigorously, bringing himself to climax within minutes. I wasn't getting the full prostate pounding that I had last night, although I would be lying if I said it didn't still feel marvelous. I was still panting and begging him to keep going, loving it as I felt the stretch and his violent slams into my ass more than the prostate pounding. He bellowed "Fuck yeah!" as he finally unloaded in me, resting momentarily then withdrawing his cock and jamming the plug back up me.

NEXT UP: WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH KEVIN AND MATT? WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY RUNNING, SOME SORT OF PORN SITE? OR IS IT A RENT-BOY AGENCY? OR BOTH? WHO IS THIS BRANDON CHARACTER? WHERE IS ALL THAT MONEY COMING FROM? IS PETER STARTING TO GET INTO THIS? ONLY TIME WILL TELL, IN THE NEXT INSTALLMENT (AND MORE). MY APOLOGIES FOR CUTTING IT OFF SO ABRUPTLY, BUT I WAS SEARCHING FOR A GOOD BREAK AND THIS WAS THE BEST PART TO BREAK. THANKS FOR READING!!!